


Welcome to the Apocalypse

by Aly_Winchester



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Apocalypse, Blood, Bow/Arrow, Bow/Arrow Violence, Crossbow, Death, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Gore, Gun Violence, Guns, Hurt/Comfort, Jealous Shane, Jealousy, Knife Violence, Knives, Lori and Rick not married, Lori isn't Carl's Mom, Lori/Shane Relationship, M/M, Major Character Injury, Marriage, Minor Character Death, Protective Daryl, Protective Rick, Relationship(s), Romantic Tension, Season/Series 01, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Shower Sex, Surrogate Lori, Unrequited Crush, Violence, Wall Sex, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombie Violence, emotional tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-28 14:33:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8450095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aly_Winchester/pseuds/Aly_Winchester
Summary: At the end of the world, there's only one thing that Rick wants more than survival: his husband of twelve years, Daryl Dixon. Rick wakes up alone in the hospital he was taken to after he's shot while on duty alone with only corpses to keep him company. Forced to fight his way out of there or succumb to the dead that try to eat him, he is almost killed before a man finds him and brings him to safety. Together with Morgan and his son Duane, Rick fights his way to Atlanta to try and find his husband and his son without meeting his end in the meantime. Will Rick be able to make it back to his family before it's too late? And if he does, will he be able to protect him from a world that wants them dead?





	1. Days Gone Bye

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone, and welcome to my new story! I've written a bit for The Walking Dead before, but this is my first Rickyl so I hope you enjoy! Just to let you know, it's rated M for right now because of violence and language, but might go up to rating E later for sexual situations. We'll see how it goes!
> 
> Thanks everyone for reading and comments are love!

Rick Grimes gasped as his consciousness flooded back into his system, making him acutely aware of everything going on in the room around him. His eyes were blurry, but he could see the shape of an IV pole next to him along with a vase of flowers on the bedside table and the bright sunlight drifting through the window. It was clearly daytime, but he had no idea what time of day or even what day of the week it was. Everything that happened before was muddled in his mind: the car chase, fighting with the perpetrators, getting shot. He remembered the last thought on his mind before he blacked out to be his family, trying to beg Shane to get to them and take care of them, but he only remembers gasping and choking on his own blood as he fought for voice, feeling it fill his throat and lungs before blackness faded his vision down to nothing. It felt like it was just yesterday, but he could tell by the weakness in his body and his parched throat that he had been there for awhile. How long exactly? And why was it so quiet?

"Daryl?" he croaked, his voice hoarse from disuse and he coughed past the scratchiness. "Carl? Shane? Lori?" At one point, he remembered hearing Carl and Shane's voices so close to him, telling him stories about weird people Shane had pulled over and Carl's classroom antics. Daryl was still on his road trip with Merle, he supposed, as he didn't remember his voice, though he would've figured Lori or Shane would've called him. Where is he? Where are any of them? He figured one of them would be there, waiting for him to wake up. He coughed again and slowly rolled over to try and find a clock or phone or something to tell him what day it was. A frown fell over his face as he realized something wasn't right, but he couldn't put his finger on what. "Nurse!" he called. "Nurse, help!" He coughed again and grabbed for the IV pole, slowly sitting himself up on the edge of the bed. Something wasn't—

 _The IV isn't running,_ he suddenly realized. He frowned and hit a couple of the buttons on the front, but nothing worked and the bag was empty, down to just air. A glance at the wall told him it was still plugged in, but that the lights weren't working either, and the vase of flowers was wilted and crumbling on the table.  _Did the electricity go out?_ Swallowing past his rough throat, he used the IV pole and the railing on the bed to try and get himself up, but the weakness in his legs made him fall to the floor. Really, how long had it been that his muscles were that weak?

He gasped as he landed on his aching, stinging side, making him curl up and lay there as he tried to regain back his strength and stop the pain at the same time. The IV pole was the only thing that was there to help him stand and finally he pulled himself up, leaning against it for support as he tried to walk. With one hand he yanked the IV needle from his arm and the oxygen tube out of his nose, shaking himself as he made his way into the bathroom. The lights in there wouldn't work either, so he used the sunlight filtering through the door to find the sink. To his shock and gratitude the water still worked and he leaned down to put his lips under the faucet, drinking like a dying man. It was if he hadn't had anything to eat or drink for weeks.  _Shouldn't the IV have helped?_

Shaking his head, he finally finished up with the water, though he probably could've drank a vase worth and more, and turned it off, stumbling back out into his room. It looked like it hadn't been touched in a week, maybe two as there was a light layer of dust covering surfaces that he hadn't touched, even on the floor. There were no footprints in it, and those flowers had died awhile back, long enough that they were starting to stink. Fear and dread started to settle into his body as he looked around, trying not to panic as he yanked open some drawers and found some disposable scrubs he could change into. There were only the shoes that went with his uniform to wear, but he changed into those, too, as it was better than walking barefoot. 

The hallway was deserted, the only sound being that of Rick's gentle footsteps and the squeaky wheels of the IV pole. He tried not to panic, but what was he supposed to do when he wakes up in a post-apocalyptic nightmare? At least that's what it felt like: nobody around, alone in a nearly demolished hospital. Bullet holes ran along the wall at head-height with blood staining around them, ceiling lights hung from cords, pieces of plaster littered the floor along with tipped over wheel chairs and medicine carts. His breathing was shaky as he walked, feeling the IV pole start to bend under his weight, but it was all he had left. 

He stopped by a nurse's station and tried a phone, but there was no dial tone. He tried calling out, but nobody answered. Other than his labored breathing, he was alone in this dead hospital with absolutely no idea what happened and he felt the panic rising inside his body, his hand trembling as he grabbed the IV pole and quickly tried to find a way out, anything to get out of that hospital. 

There was an exit sign towards the end of the hallway near a cafeteria sign and he hurried for it, his feet picking up pace as his IV pole rattled. He tossed it aside as his speed increased. For a moment he had to study the signs, seeing that the exit was pointed to the left and the cafeteria was pointed to the right. Making a quick dart for the left, he began to run down that hall when he started to see movement towards the end. He stopped in his tracks and frowned, but he felt relief course through his veins. There were other people there, real living people. Maybe they could tell him what was going on, if this was real or if it was some kind of sick joke. Frankly he hoped it was just a nightmare. 

"Hey!" he called out, his feet taking him closer to the shadows dancing along the walls. They seemed to stop and then slowly turn in his direction once they heard his voice. He moved quicker, picking up into a run. "Please, can you help me? I just woke up and—"

And something still wasn't right. They didn't look like regular people, they were stumbling along and faintly he was beginning to hear groaning. He stopped running and stared at the shadows, trying to figure out what was going on, when they came into view. Well they were real people, some doctors and nurses and some patients, he could tell by what they were wearing. _Did they hold up here together while waiting for...whatever is happening to end?_

"Hey, are you—" His voice cut off again as one of the doctors stepped up in front of a doorway and the sunlight coming from inside that room flashed over his face. Or rather, what was  _left_ of his face. The left side looked like it had been blown away, only a steaming pile of hamburger left. One eye was gone and the other eye that was left was white and milky. Yet he looked so  _hungry_ and he lurched forward like a starving man jumping for his first meal in days. 

Rick let out a startled cry and jumped back, yelping as he tripped over a wheelchair that had been left behind him. He hissed as he felt some of his stitches break open and he scuttled back, desperate to get away from whatever this  _thing_ was, because it sure as hell wasn't human anymore. It didn't stop, though, and it was joined by its friends who Rick saw, one by one, that they weren't human anymore either. Various degrees of decay and death assaulted his eyes and eventually his nose, making him gag, but he was too worried about getting away to bother with vomiting. 

It seemed he couldn't grab his footing no matter how hard he tried, almost getting up only to fall backwards again. It didn't help that his shoes were smooth and flat on the bottom, the cop specialty. All he wanted to do was get out of there, somehow get past them and get to the exit to be free. Yet all he could do was yell for Daryl, at least internally, wanting his rough and tough hunter to come and save him. He would know how, right? He's killed things before, surely he would have no problem with whatever these were. 

Eventually he backed into the IV pole he left on the ground and with a grunt, he picked it up and swung it at the thing that just kept coming, not dissuaded at all by Rick's frightened motions, even when he managed to get a few smacks in on its side. It reached for him, grabbing for his foot and trying to pull him towards it, making him scream and kick at it. 

At first he didn't even hear the blast as his ears rung, but he saw a hole blasted through the used-to-be-doctor's forehead and it fell to a crumpled heap on the ground and didn't move again. Breathing heavily, he watched as two others fell down as well, the other two closest to him, another doctor and a patient that had long brown hair. 

"Get up! Move, let's go!" Oh, were those words for him? Hands were tugging him at both sides and finally he scrambled back, using the leverage of the other hands to pick himself up and catch his footing. " _Run_ , goddamn it!" A hand sounded across his cheek and it was as if the spiderwebs of fear clouding his mind went away and he could see clearly for the first time. Dead things were coming after him, he had woken up alone in an abandoned hospital, and some stranger had just shot the things and saved his life. But it got him moving and he nodded quickly, turning to the other man behind him. 

The man was a slightly older African American man welding a rifle in one hand and a knife in the other. The other person who had tugged on him was a boy, slightly older than Carl—maybe twelve or thirteen—holding onto a shovel that had dried splatters of gore covering the blade as well as part-way up the handle. Clearly father and son and for a moment he yearned for his own son, but the man was yanking on his sleeve to get him moving and Rick followed him quickly. They were headed for the cafeteria that Rick had seen a sign for earlier and they ducked inside. The man and boy slammed the door shut and put a board through the handles along with wrapping a chain around it and clicking a lock shut. Those things began to bang on the other side, knowing that Rick and the others were hidden behind it, making Rick yelp and stumble back into an old table. 

"Wha—"

"Run now, talk later," the man rushed out and turned to jog in the other direction. Rick blindly followed and realized there was another entrance there, but in the back. Clearly it was an employee entrance because it was in the back of the kitchen and the stairwell was very narrow. It didn't stop on any other floors, but took them all the way down to the ground. Rick realized they were on the third floor as he counted each flight they descended. He was panting, his side screaming in protest as they made their way down, and finally burst out the back entrance. There were a couple more of those things out there which one was taken out by the boy's shovel and the other the man's rifle. There was a Jeep parked down at the bay and they ran for it so Rick followed, jumping into the back seat as it was turned off. 

Tires spun as the man sped away and Rick stared in horror around him. Harrison Memorial Hospital was barely more than ruins. Large holes covered the first couple floors of the building; how he was still there and didn't die was beyond him. Up on a hill above the hospital was the visitor's parking lot and what was left of a military operation. Bodies littered the ground, some falling out of a crashed helicopter. Bullet holes seemed to have rained every surface and the sight of blood and stench of death seemed to blanket the area. 

The man was driving away from it, though, thankfully as he headed towards Rick's old neighborhood. Most of the houses looked empty as they drove past in a flurry of movement, definitely going above the speed limit, but it's not as if actually mattered then. It seemed as that Rick's sick feeling that they were in the apocalypse was absolutely right. 

"Stop!" Rick suddenly yelled, making the man slam on the brakes. 

"What the—" Rick didn't give him time to finish as he jumped out, barely thinking enough to slam the door shut as he was racing up the front steps of the home he shared with his family. It had been left wide open and there were clothing spilled into the hallway and around the living room. Pictures were left haphazardly along the walls and the kitchen was raided bare of any non-perishable food item. 

"Daryl!" he screamed, feet taking him to the stairs and up two at a time. He could feel blood start to ooze from his wound, but he neither stopped nor cared about such a fact. "Carl!" His family was here, they just  _had_ to be. They had to be here... "Daryl! Carl!" The rooms were torn apart. It was only a two bedroom house, but it looked as if a tornado hit it. He could see toys and books were gone from Carl's room along with most of his and Daryl's clothes. Rick's wasn't touched. The suitcases that Rick and Daryl had bought to go on their honeymoon twelve years ago were gone as well, and pictures that had been stored away in albums on their dresser were gone, too. The house was silent except for the sound of his panicked panting breath sawing out of his lungs and he gasped, falling to his knees right there in the middle of the hallway, his loud sobs echoing off of the vacant walls. " _Daryl! Carl!_ " His call did not meet the ears of those it was intended for. Nobody answered him, nobody was there. He was alone in the apocalypse with no idea if his family survived or not. 

Slowly he curled up, crying into his knees as he pulled himself into a ball, allowing himself to grieve and feel the devastation and effects of what had happened to him in just a matter of a couple hours. He knew they wouldn't have left him if they knew he was still alive, but that just meant that he knew he needed to find them, needed to get to them and protect them. 

"...Mister?" 

The voice interrupted his grieving, his loud sobs slowly fading away until he was left hiccuping in the middle of the hallway. Slowly he began to crawl over to the stairway and sat on the top step, bloodshot, watery eyes staring down at the man and boy that stood in the doorway of his home. The man looked suspicious as his eyes studied Rick, flickering along his body and then setting upon his side where Rick's wound clearly opened up. 

"What's your wound?" he demanded then, his voice suddenly cold and Rick frowned, gulping down the lump in his throat. 

"What?" Rick mumbled. 

The man took a step forward and pulled his son behind him, rifle in his hands. He didn't point it, but he brought it in front of him as if for protection. "What's your wound?" he repeated. 

"I-I don't—"

"Were. You. Bit." The words made Rick look at him as if he grew a second head and slowly he shook his head. 

"B-bit? I don't—"

"How'd it happen?" 

"Shot. I-I was shot." 

"That's all?" 

Rick nodded. "That's all." 

The man gazed at him for another moment before nodding and beckoned Rick down. Rick frowned at him, his eyes suspicious as the man was clearly in charge in this position, but he did as he said if only so that gun wasn't pointed at him again. But the man set the gun aside as Rick stepped in front of him. The man gestured to his side and Rick frowned harder, but slowly lifted up the edge of his shirt. He hissed as the dirty gauze was pulled away and the man seemed to deflate, the tension leaving his shoulders and he gave a single nod, which brought the boy forward. He still held the shovel, but he set lowered it to the ground as the man put the gauze back in place. 

"I'm Morgan Jones. This is my son, Duane."

Rick nodded. "Rick Grimes." 

Morgan held his hand out. "Nice to meet you, Rick." Rick nodded and shook the man's hand. 

"Sorry about the interrogation. Had to make sure you weren't bit by one of those things." 

"What are they?" 

Morgan frowned. "You mean you don't know?" Rick shook his head and Morgan sighed. "Well...we better get back to our place. We'll explain it all there." He paused. "Do you have anything that you could use as a weapon?" Rick paused for a moment before holding up a hand and heading into the kitchen, coming out with the butcher knife. Morgan nodded. "That'll do. C'mon, we're in the house next door."

"The Drakes," he said, watching as Morgan picked up his gun and Duane his shovel before they led him outside and across the yards to the house next door. 

"It was empty when we got here. We're just laying low here for a little bit before we move on, try and find someplace more permanent." There was an odd lilt to the man's voice as if he weren't telling Rick everything, but he wasn't about to push. Everything just seemed so unreal and he was still waiting to wake up with Daryl and Carl leaning over him, smiling in relief that he was awake. He could tell them all about his post-apocalyptic dream and they would laugh and tell him,  _"that'll never happen."_ Except every time he took a step, his side stung and that pain told him this wasn't a nightmare.

This was real. 

Morgan set aside the weapons and had Duane help him nail some boards across the front door. He showed Rick to a bedroom that he could have before he started cooking a can of beans over a candle. Without the electricity, Rick knew that was probably about as best they could do, and he sat quietly across from Duane on the side of the table while Morgan worked. 

"So, you really don't know what's going on?" Morgan finally said. Rick shook his head. "What  _do_ you know?" 

Rick shifted in his seat. "I was shot and taken to the hospital. I woke up and...and the world was like this." He shook his head. "I don't know how it happened, or...or what those  _things_ are that tried to attack me today." 

"Walkers." 

The word came from Duane, who spoke for the first time since Rick ran into them.

Rick frowned. "Walkers?"

"The dead getting up and walking around?" Morgan shrugged. "Seemed like a good name for them." He sat down with the warm can of beans and began to spoon it evenly onto the three mismatched plates sitting around in front of them. "If you're bit by one, even scratched, you become one of them. The fever will kill you first, but eventually you'll become a walker. That's why I asked you about your wound. I needed to know you weren't bit." He gave a spoon to Rick and slowly the man began to eat, but by the second bite he was shoveling it into his mouth, realizing just how famished he really was. "You must've been in there a long time. It's been about two weeks since the televisions and radios went dead." Rick looked up at him in alarm as he finished off his plate. "At first they said it was just in the cities. But then it began to spread. Soon the whole country had reports about it and were telling people to get to the cities because they were setting up refugee shelters. That was a day before everything went dark. My wife has family in Atlanta, so that's where we're headed." 

Rick glanced around and frowned. "...wife?"

Morgan nodded and glanced to Duane who refused to look up as he ate. "She died on that bed in there. One minute she had been next to me, the next minute one of those things was gnawing on her neck. She died in about seven hours and turned an hour after that." He pushed his food around on the plate. "Didn't have the strength to end her..."

Rick frowned sadly and nodded his understanding. If that had been reversed and it was Daryl that had died and turned, he wouldn't have been able to put down his husband either.  _What if he already was? What if he's gone and I'll never see him again?_ The thought haunted him and he barely was able to pick up his glass of water to take a sip.

"So who were you looking for?" Morgan wondered, his voice still soft.

Rick glanced up and back down as he took another sip of water. "My husband and son. Though...he was on a road trip with his brother before I got shot, so I don't even know if—" He paused and swallowed down the lump in his throat. "—I don't know if Carl is with him or our friends. I don't know if Daryl is alive or if he was eaten by one of those... _walkers_. I don't know where they are, and I need to. Even if they're dead...knowing is better than not knowing." Though the jury was still out on that one. 

Morgan nodded in understanding and finished up his meal as well. "Where do you think they'd head?" 

Rick shrugged. "Safest place. Protecting Carl would be Daryl's first priority. Maybe Atlanta, neither of us had family there, but if there was a refugee center, that's where he would go. Our friend Lori's parents were there, though, so they could've stuck with her and her husband, Shane." 

"Sounds like we're both headed that way. If you want, we can stick together. Duane and I want to stay here a couple more days. Try to...to finish up with some business." Morgan's wife. Rick nodded silently. "But if you can wait that long, we'll tag along and we can help each other." 

Rick thought about it for a moment. While he really wanted to leave right then and there to find Daryl and Carl, it was getting dark out and he knew with those things and his lack of experience, not to mention his opened wound and general weakness, it wouldn't be such a good idea. Plus he knew that safety in numbers was the best possibility and even though he didn't know them, they saved his life and got him out of that walker-infested hospital. He owed them a lot and he trusted them. 

"Sounds like a plan," Rick said quietly and Morgan smiled. "By the way...thank you for saving me. You don't even know me. So...thank you." Morgan merely smiled and poured him some more water. 

An hour later, Rick finished up with Morgan in the living room. Morgan had insisted on helping him patch up and so with a bottle of rum in Rick's hand, he re-stitched the wound. He didn't understand the rum at first, but realized its purpose once the needle started to go in his skin. It was rough and by the end, he was sweaty and achy, but he wasn't openly bleeding anymore which would be a good thing considering. A fresh gauze pad was put over it with some more tape, and he was given some sweats and a clean plain white t-shirt to change into. The bed was actually pretty comfortable, much more so than the hospital bed he had woken up in, and he found that between the stress of waking up as he had, the lack of food and water, finding out the world had ended and the dead were walking, and add on the fact that his husband and son might very well be dead...it was exhausting and against his better judgement, his eyes fluttered shut right away, leaving him dead to the world and, thankfully, in a dreamless sleep.


	2. The New World

"The head is where you want to aim. Kill the brain, you kill the walker." 

Morgan was standing behind Rick on the porch of the house, crossing his arms and leaning against a pillar. Duane sat on the steps in front of him, quietly watching as Rick tried to practice the  _"art"_ of killing walkers. He had seen stuff like this before on television—he and Daryl used to spend an entire weekend watching any horror movie they could get their hands on—but never considered it was something he would ever have to use in real life.  _Just think of Night of the Living Dead,_ he thought as he crept up behind the walker that was sitting against the fence on the left side of the property. Rick wasn't sure how Morgan knew what it was, but as he walked closer and stood downwind of it, the stench of it hit his nose. He blinked as his eyes watered, his stomach rolling, and he tried to ignore it so he could practice.  _To the head,_ he thought as he walked up to it, Duane's shovel in his hand. He had traded him the knife so he wouldn't have to stand so close to it as he tried to kill it. 

It seemed that humans weren't the only ones who still had a sense of smell because once he walked closer, he heard the thing start to groan. He paused and watched as it stumbled to its feet, swaying where it stood and Rick's stomach did a somersault. _Get it together, Grimes, you've faced worse bad guys than this. And you've been shot. One walker is nothing._ Of course, he couldn't really tell that to the loud beating of his heart, because these things were way different than any bad traffic stop or reckless perpetrator that he had come across up to that point. But his determination was more intense than ever because he wasn't just throwing some bad guy in jail and throwing away the key, he was going to fight his way to his family whether it killed him or not. 

His face falling into a grim, determined line, he swung the shovel around in an arch and smacked it into the side of the walker's head so it fell to the ground. Teeth clenched tight, he brought it up again and bashed it down into its head. Again. And again. And again. And again. Soon there was just a loud, squelching slap as it caved in the skin, the skull, and finally the brain to destroy it. It didn't move, but Rick hit it a couple more times just for good measure and just because he was a bit frustrated. The world ended, his family was gone, and he was alone for the first time in his life. He wanted to find out what happened to them and he wanted to protect them. 

Stepping back, he panted roughly, reaching up to wipe the sweat off his forehead. The shovel fell to the ground and he was careful to avoid wiping any of the blood on his fingers across his face. He let out a breath and felt a dizzy spell hit him and he stepped back a couple times, falling to the ground. He heard Morgan rush closer to him and kneel next to him, checking his side for any torn stitches and his head for a fever, but he just felt sweat and a steadily running pulse. Morgan sighed and sat back, watching Rick closely as he got himself together. 

"That was good," Morgan said. "You're a natural." 

Rick chuckled lightly. "Guess with it comes with the job." 

Morgan raised an eyebrow. "What were you anyway? Duane says you were a crook." He chuckled slightly. 

Rick shook his head. "Nah, I was a sheriff's deputy. Car chase led to a shoot out and I got in the way." He shrugged and finally managed to struggle himself to his feet. Morgan nodded and helped him stand. 

"Well that's enough for today, deputy. We have to figure out our plan to get to Atlanta."

Rick wiped at his forehead again before he glanced around and frowned slightly. "I think I have an idea. It should be safe."

Morgan nodded. "I'm with you. Where to?" Rick smiled. 

* * *

The police station was vacant and Rick was able to get in without a problem. While all of his stuff had been left behind at the hospital including his keys, the back door was usually kept unlocked, and if not, all the squad cars kept one inside the visor just in case any of the deputies forgot theirs. Taking a quick peak inside, he could tell that it was quiet and empty of anything that could come at them. Nodding to the others, he gestured them inside and shut the door behind them so they didn't draw any unwanted attention whether human or walker. 

"Arsenal is over here," Rick said, leading them towards the back rooms of the precinct. They had to pass the jail cells along the way as well as evidence lockup. There could be a couple weapons in there, but nothing as powerful as the rifles he knew to be in the arsenal. There were thousands of rounds just sitting there and the sniper scopes on the rifles were the best in the business. The cops in Georgia didn't fuck around with their guns, getting the best of the best. King County was a small area, crime wasn't at a high percentage rate other than a bit of drug trafficking, but the cops around there liked to be prepared. For a moment Rick wished he had one that day he was shot, but they never really carried them in their squad cars, which was stupid now that he thought about it again. 

Raising his flashlight, he opened the cage door and heard Morgan whistle lowly as he took in the rows of rifles, shotguns, and handguns not to mention the boxes of ammo that were sitting around the small room. Rick immediately took inventory and decided he wanted a bit of everything because they would all be useful for different situations. There were some  **POLICE** duffles that were perfect for things like this so he tossed in about seven hundred assorted rounds, about a dozen hand guns, six rifles, and four shotguns. He found a waist belt with an attached holster and found his favorite amongst the handguns: a Colt Python. He used one while he was a deputy and Shane always had told him it was impractical because it only carried six rounds while automatics carried fifteen in their magazine, but he still couldn't let go of the traditional Colt. It was beautifully styled and easy to hold, and internally he enjoyed the air of  _cowboy_ around him when he was carrying it. 

He had to smile a bit as he shoved the gun in the holster and then dragged the bag over his shoulder. Glancing around, he saw Morgan trying to choose and he walked over, pointing to one of the rifles. "That one's light and the scope is accurate," he said, pulling it off the rack. "Semi-automatic, can shoot multi-rounds if you hold the trigger down, and it can hold a magazine with ten rounds." Morgan actually looked impressed and excited at the same time as he took the weapon from Rick, putting the scope up to his eye to check it out, and nodded with a grin. Duane selected a smaller handgun that Morgan kept until Rick could help him to shoot it.

"It's not a toy, son," Rick said seriously, showing Duane the magazine that would go with it. "Every time you shoot that off, you have to mean it. I used to be an instructor and I'll help you learn. But you have to pay attention and you can't play with it." 

"Yes, sir," Duane said politely as he picked up the shovel he kept close by and held it tightly, though he looked very eager to learn how to use the gun and Rick couldn't help but smile. He tousled Duane's hair before moving from the cage. 

"You know, the station has its own pilot light. Showers might still be warm." 

Duane's eyes lit up. "A hot shower?" 

Rick chuckled and led the way into the changing rooms. The showers were at the back, all with half-walled stalls and a single shower head above them. Rick tried it out first and grinned when he felt the water warm up. Each of them got their own stall and Rick stood there, letting two weeks worth of dirt, dust, and walker blood flow off his body and onto the floor. The soap they found at the station wasn't the best smelling, but it did a good job in scrubbing away anything they had on them and soon all of them were clean and dressed in new clothes, including Rick in one of his old uniforms that had been stored away in his locker just in case he ever forgot his or got his dirty. 

"Tomorrow we leave at Dawn," Morgan was saying as he looked into the mirror above the sink he stood in front of. He was shaving away two-weeks worth of a beard that Rick himself had already taken care of. Duane sat nearby, scrubbing down the blade of his shovel while Rick searched lockers for anything useful. Other than more soap, some deodorant, and random dollar bills—which was about the most useless thing in the world now—there was nothing of value, not even any clothes. "It'll give us most of the day and the best lighting."

Rick nodded and he sat down next to Duane, feeling antsy to finally get going on the road. If Daryl and Carl were in Atlanta, he sure as hell would find them. There was nothing that would stop him from doing so, and the idea that tomorrow night he might finally have his husband back in his arms made him unable to sit still. He stood up and began to pace, seeing Duane watch him, but he just couldn't stop. His hands actually itched to finally touch that face again, sliding his fingers against those cheeks as he desperately kissed him. Hold him at night, watch him sleep, chest rising and falling and just  _watching_ because Daryl was alive and Rick found him. Look into those blue hues and hear the word  _"forever"_ over and over again in his mind, the same word they promised each other twelve years previously. 

 _Tomorrow,_ he vowed.  _I'll find them._

Shaking his thoughts away, he leaned against some of the lockers and sighed. "I hope they'll let us into that refugee center," he said, looking down towards the ground. "I'm sure it's probably packed, but they can't just send us away, right?" 

"If it's there." Rick snapped his head up, frowning. 

"I thought you said it was." 

"It was. They were setting it up, but the cities fell fast, Rick. Who knows if it stayed. We survived outside it, others might've, too. We just have to find them." Morgan nodded and turned around, patting his face dry of water and shaving cream. "Don't worry, we'll find your man and your boy." 

Rick gave him a half-hearted smile before heading out of the locker room.

* * *

 

The back of the Jeep now had Rick's gun bag and some cans of gas that he siphoned from the squad cars, knowing that it wouldn't be of any use just sitting there, and the Jeep had more room for all of them. Duane was now in the back, shovel at his side as they all silently went back towards the house. It was just afternoon and they had the rest of the evening and over night to wait to head to Atlanta. Rick understood that they couldn't go just right yet, as he could tell by the set look on Morgan's face when they got back that he had his business to do, but that didn't mean he was feeling any less nervous. Every second counted in this world, and every second he spent away meant it could be one second less he had with his family, and one second closer they might have to death. Taking the rifle Rick had given him and a handful of the proper rounds, Rick nodded to him and watched as Morgan silently went up the stairs. 

"C'mon, Duane, why don't we read some comics. My son loved them and I grabbed them from his room when we went to grab clothes earlier." They had stopped there before the precinct so Rick could grab a duffle of clothes otherwise he would be stuck with what he was wearing. Duane looked confused, but he nodded and sat on the mattresses that he and Morgan slept on in the living room. Rick pulled his duffle closer and unzipped it to pull out the comics. Duane's eyes lit up as he looked over them, growing more excited as he went. 

"These are so rare!" he exclaimed, causing Rick to grin. "How'd you find them?" 

"My husband 'knew someone' and always managed to find Carl whatever he wanted." His smile became a fond, bittersweet smile as his arms grew cold as he thought of his family, wishing they were there with him and he was holding them. "I always said he was spoiling the kid, but it made Carl happy so I didn't argue too much." 

His last word was cut off when a loud blast sounded from upstairs, nearly rocking the house and Duane stopped, looking up at the stairs in fright. He jumped up to run up them and Rick leapt after him, wrapping an arm around his waist to drag him away from the steps. Rick knew Morgan wouldn't want Duane to watch this; the boy already saw his mother bitten and turn, knew that she was roaming the streets craving to eat anybody that came by her. The kid didn't need to watch her be put down. 

"Daddy! What was that?!" Duane called, his voice high and frightened. 

"Nothing, son, it's alright! Just go back to your comics, everything will be fine." Morgan's voice was muffled by the separation from being on different floors, but Rick could hear the distress. Duane frowned and looked at the window before running for it. Peaking out, his mouth dropped and he shook his head. 

"No," he murmured. "He's going to kill her!" 

"Duane, come back here, son," Rick said, his voice tense as he tried to coax the child away from the window. Duane shook his head and darted for the door, throwing it open against the wall with a loud bang and running outside. "Duane, no!" he yelled. " _Morgan_! Come down here, Duane ran outside!" 

Rick heard a thump and then loud footsteps as Morgan ran to get to them, but Rick was already outside running after the child. The woman in question was standing in the middle of the street, dressed in a white nightgown. Other than her milky, yellowish eyes and the blood around the neck of the nightgown, you never would guess that she was a walker. She looked exactly like she had when she died, and Duane was racing right for her. 

"Momma, run!" he was yelling, footsteps carrying him over the pavement. 

"Duane, no! C'mon, come back to the house!" Rick yelled, fear pulsing through him as he tried to close in the distance between them. The walker—Duane's mother—turned towards the sound, her head tilting to the side as if she understood who Duane was and what he was saying, even though no emotion, no recognition at all covered her face. 

" _Duane_! Son, please come back!" It was Morgan this time and Rick could hear him running up behind him. Rick's guilt pulsed through him; he should've stopped him, he should've made him stay. If this boy died because he didn't stop him, he might as well have just kill him himself. 

"Momma, he's coming for you! Run, don't let him get you!" It seemed that Duane was too frightened, too devastated to really grasp what was happening, that his mother was gone and what was walking around wasn't her anymore. The distance between him and the walker was far too close for comfort and Rick started to feel his heart beating erratically, the heartbreak of the situation too much for him to handle.

"Duane,  _please_!" Morgan's voice was growing desperate and when Duane was ten feet away he skidded to a stop, turning back to the men who raced after him, his face angry and sad.

"I won't let you kill her!" 

"Duane, c'mon, come back inside and we can talk." 

"No, Daddy, you want to kill her and I—"

That was the last thing he ever said. The walker that was his mother slowly got closer to him and once she was close enough she growled and lunged, knocking the child off his feet. There was no use fighting, no use to try to escape because she had him pinned, growling and snapping her jaws in his face. 

" _No_!" Rick yelled, bringing up his Colt, but knew with them struggling around like they were, he could very well hit Duane instead. He skidded to a halt and panted, trying to get a clear shot on the walker, but there was never enough room. 

The scream Duane gave when she bit into his neck would forever haunt him, hearing the flesh ripping from his bones as she chewed hungrily on him and went back for another bite before she was even done with the first. He heard Morgan scream as the world around him tumbled and he fell to his knees in front of them, barely realizing that the jerk of her head flying back, bullet imbedding itself in her brain, was from a round from his own gun. Morgan was sobbing as he fell to his knees, bringing his son's lifeless body up to his chest, thick ooze of infected blood covering his clothes and skin. The man didn't care and Rick couldn't move, watching dazedly as Morgan wept for his dead son. 

When Morgan sent a bullet through Duane's brain, Rick's body jerked, swaying on the spot as if he were feeling the recoil. Frankly, at that moment, he wished he was. He should've kept Duane inside. He shouldn't have let Duane look out the window. He should've ran after him faster. He should've...

The growls hit his ears and slowly he looked up, seeing a grouping of about fifteen to twenty walkers ambling for them. Sniffing, not even realizing he had started crying, he stumbled to his feet and over to Morgan to grab his arm. 

"We have to go back inside," Rick mumbled, his grip being shaken away as Morgan continued to sob. "C'mon, Morgan, we have to go. They're coming, they heard the noises. We have to go." The agonized look of despair that Morgan gave to Rick is one the deputy was never likely to forget and, pair it with Duane's last screams, he knew that his nightmares were just beginning. "Please, Morgan," he whispered and finally the man nodded. He pressed a kiss to Duane's temple and shakily set him to the ground at his feet. He steps stumbled even more than Rick's, but together they managed to get themselves back in the house and board up the windows, turning off the lamps so there was no chance that anything would come knocking. 

After that, Morgan sat silently on the floor against the wall, staring at a picture of a beach that the Drakes had hanging above their couch. He didn't say a word no matter what Rick said to him, he didn't move, he didn't make a single sound. Once dinner time rolled around, Rick opened a can of green beans and heated it liked Morgan had before with a candle and set a plate beside the older man. He still didn't move so Rick sighed and headed back into his room, closing the door softly behind him. 

He didn't eat either, setting the plate on the bedside table, he just curled up on the bed and dragged out one of the pictures he had taken from his house and hidden under his pillow. It was of himself, Daryl, and Carl on Carl's tenth birthday. They had taken him to the carnival with some of his friends and all three of them were shoved in the seat of a ferris wheel. Rick hated heights and had to be talked into going on, but wound up having so much fun that he never regretted it. Things like that seemed so trivial and he scoffed to himself, thumb gently smoothing over the images of his husband and son. 

"I love you," he whispered thickly, sniffing. "Please be okay. I  _need_ you to be okay." And with that he started silently weeping into his pillow, the ordeal today that ended in devastation keeping him awake all night, his mind full of horrible images of Daryl and Carl being ripped apart like Duane had been, images of walker Daryl and walker Carl coming at him with blank eyes and hungry gazes, walking but no longer the people he loved most in the world. When the sun rose, he was still clutching the picture, still running his thumb over their images, praying that that day would end in happiness for himself, and that Morgan could find a little bit of peace.


	3. No Guts, No Glory

When the sun rose, he was still clutching the picture, still running his thumb over their images, praying that that day would end in happiness for himself, and that Morgan could find a little bit of peace. Already it seemed like the day would be physically warmer which was a bit deceiving, at least for him, considering the ice he felt gripping at his heart and body. He wasn't sure he could ever truly be warm again if he found his family as he dreaded he would, taken by the walkers and left to become shells of their former selves. Thoughts consumed him, images of seeing that familiar angel wing vest in front of him, running to him because he's so  _happy_ that he's found his husband once more, only to stare in horror as he turns around with dead milky eyes and a half-rotted face. Rick pictures himself falling to the ground and screaming, and begging him to come back to him. 

Shaking his head he sat up, limbs aching and side screaming in protest as he had stayed in the same position all night, far too long for his body at that moment. But he didn't even make a sound as he pushed back the covers and gently put the picture in his pocket, heading out into the other room to get the day started. He was buttoning his shirt as he went, tucking the tan material into his black jeans. A quick glance told him that Morgan hadn't moved either and Rick wondered what he was thinking. It wasn't a huge question mark considering the day before, but he seemed to be awfully deep in thought. For a moment as Rick finished up, he studied him and wondered when he should try and move him, try and talk to him, but he didn't have the heart to just yet. A quick peak out the front window told him that while the crowd did thin out a little bit, there were still too many there for comfort. Rick knew they would have to leave soon; they couldn't live this close to so many walkers without a major risk. 

Heading into the kitchen, he grabbed a can of peaches and divided it between two plates, deciding that he was starving after not eating the night before and the long hours spent frustrated and afraid that he didn't know where his family was. He could only simply  _hope_ that he would be coming back to them and not shells of them. The thoughts of  _"what if"_ plagued him much more than the walkers ever would. 

Sitting next to Morgan, he set aside his cold plate of green beans and replaced it with the peaches. It wasn't much, but better not make this trek on an empty stomach. It took another hour for either of them to say anything as Rick slowly chewed and finished his meal, and soon after, Morgan actually moved long enough to do so as well. Together they stared at the painting and Rick wondered what he saw there, a memory or something more distant than that, like the image of his dead son. 

A glance at his watch told Rick that it was about eight AM and that's when he stood to gather all the dirty dishes and wash them up. They were packed away in a box that would be stored in the Jeep along with the rest of the food and their gear. It seemed like it would be a good day for a drive and Rick only had to get Morgan up and going so they didn't lose too many daylight hours. As he washed, he thought of what to say. _Duane wouldn't want you to stay here and get hurt. It's not your fault he died. I'm so sorry I didn't stop him from going outside. We should go before it gets too much later._ Nodding, he finished up and turned to say just that, good as anything he could say, but he stopped in surprise when he saw Morgan standing just behind him. It was like all the words just fell from his mind as he watched him, his face setting into a grim frown as he saw Morgan take in the dishes and everything packed away, ready to go. 

"We should get going," Morgan murmured, his voice a bit hoarse, but overall he didn't seem to act like he was going to break at any moment. 

Rick nodded. "We just have to throw all this stuff in the trunk and we'll be set." Morgan gave him an answering nod of his own and took a couple steps closer to Rick. 

"Rick, I—"

Rick shook his head as he tossed the towel he was holding onto the counter. "Morgan, please," he interrupted quickly, "it's not your fault. I should've stopped him, that's on me. I can never apologize enough—"

"I should've told him what I was doing, discussed it with him. After his mother died, he was so quiet, he was never like that before that. I just thought he needed some time to process it. He is— _was_ —so young." He took a shaky breath and fell into a chair, Rick quietly sat across from him. "I never thought that it broke him. He didn't think she was dead, her body still here but everything else about her was gone. He just didn't understand. I should've talked with him. I should've helped him. So no, Rick, that's on me. You tried to save my boy, and I can never thank you enough for that." Morgan held out a hand to shake and Rick looked at him for a couple more moments before he sighed and shook the man's hand. He didn't say anything, he couldn't. He was a bit choked up and he still didn't think he deserved the thanks, but he wouldn't dishonor the man by refusing his hand shake. "Now. Let's get everything packed up and get out of here, shall we? Atlanta is waiting." 

Rick nodded and went back to putting things away in boxes or bags, helping Morgan make quick trips down to the Jeep to put them away. The walkers were far enough away down the street that they didn't notice the living, but Rick could still see them milling about so he didn't want to stay too much longer. Plus there was still a small, slumped figure on the ground just in eye sight and he didn't want to see that anymore than he had to. Morgan just stared at the ground ahead of him, completely ignoring it. 

Once the boxes and bags were packed away, they did a quick sweep of the house to make sure they got everything of use—Duane's bag was left on the couch by Morgan—and then packed into the Jeep. Atlanta was about fifty-two miles away and it was nearly a straight shot so with a quick turn, they headed straight off down the road.

* * *

 "Do you think we can get right through the middle of the city?" Rick asked as Morgan drove through the turnpike. There were ten lanes to the highway, five for each direction. Heading out of Atlanta was clogged tightly, packed with what looked like every car in the city, while the other side was completely clear. It didn't make Rick feel any better because if people had been trying that hard to get out of the city, that meant that most likely the city had fallen before the refugee center got built and that most likely, his family wasn't there. Or, if they were, they belonged to the dead now. 

 _No._ He refused to keep thinking like that, he couldn't, it would make him crazy before he even got there. He had to focus on finding them, finding them  _alive_ and he couldn't let himself fall into the trap of despair. If he did, he might as well just kill them himself because it would only hurt them more. They needed his help and he was no use to them like this. He got out of that hospital alive, he made it through the horror and pain of Duane's death, and he could get through this, too. All he had to do was focus on Daryl and Carl's beautiful faces, focus on their lives and their strength, and  _believe_ that he could find them alive, and it would give him the power to get through this. 

"Best shot as any," Morgan finally said, though he slowed the Jeep down a bit. If King County was bad enough with its post-apocalyptic feel, Atlanta was even worse. Crumbling buildings, burnt out cars, the stench of the dead in the air. The whole city was a ghost town and they were heading into its corpse. They had no choice, though, they had to start somewhere. 

Rick hadn't been to Atlanta in awhile, not since Carl was very young and they went with Lori and Shane to visit her parents. She and Shane had never been blessed with a child so her parents had adopted Carl into that role. Carl wasn't biologically theirs, they used an egg donor to get the embryos before injecting Lori. They all thought it would be too odd and too complicated if Lori was Carl's biological mother. They had no idea of the donor's identity and since both Rick and Daryl had donated themselves, they had no idea which one of them biologically was Carl's father, but that didn't matter to them because they were a family. They  _both_ were Carl's fathers and they raised him as such. 

The city was too silent for Rick's liking and he felt a new mood falling over the Jeep as they went into the city. The streets were full of debris and cars and at first they were going to try and get through it, but soon the cars were packed too tight. It was either move them and drive, or just leave the Jeep where it was and walk. They glanced at each other and both decided to just leave the Jeep where it was. There were no signs saying anything about a refugee center, but Rick remembered the way to Lori's parents' apartment so that's where he figured they could start. He hefted the bag of guns over his shoulder, but left the rest of it where it was sitting, figuring they would be back for it eventually. 

They shared a nod and then headed into the city. Rick had his Colt out and Morgan his rifle, both of them taking turns looking behind them to make sure nothing was going to creep up on them. The city was far too silent for Rick's liking and he kept waiting for something to happen, but it didn't. It was coming, though, he could feel it. It was just something in the air and he could already feel like they weren't alone. 

They went down about three blocks away from the Jeep, eyes out for any refugee signs or anything of living people. It was hard for Rick to believe that this had happened in only two weeks. It looked like one of those movies that started out with,  _"sixteen years ago, the world fell to the zombies."_ Only this was just two weeks ago; sometimes Rick just couldn't comprehend that, was still waiting to wake up from that nightmare with Daryl holding his hand. 

_Boom!_

The gunfire brought Rick out of his daze and it startled him so much that he jumped, whirling around in both directions, gun raised as he tried to figure out what the hell was going on. He started panting as adrenaline picked up in his body and he saw Morgan doing nearly the same thing. 

"What the fuck was that?" Rick demanded with a gasp, swinging around again as another loud blast of gunfire sounded. After that it sounded like a scream, another blast, and then silence. Rick swung around again, glancing at Morgan and realizing that the city echoed too much with its emptiness that he had no idea which way it came from. All he could hear right then was the loud beat of his pulse in his ears.

After another five minutes of looking around, Morgan finally said, "Let's just keep going this way to search for the refugee center. Can't back down now." Rick nodded in agreement and they went up another block, turning to the left...except a walker blocked their way. Actually, not just one, but dozens.  _Hundreds._

"Oh shit," Morgan muttered as Rick stared in horror. Since the first one noticed them, those around it noticed them, and slowly like a domino effect, all of the walkers turned to look at them and, in unison, began to groan and come for them. "Run!" 

Rick didn't even argue, he was already sprinting in the opposite direction, headed back the way they came. Except that became blocked as well as one of the streets they already passed was flooded and they skidded to a halt. Breath sawing out of his lungs, side aching, for a moment he was lost and thought about just ending it. He would rather shoot himself in the head than feel those things eat him.  _Daryl, Carl, I'm sorry..._ Just as he brought his gun up, something large caught his eye down one of the side streets. 

A tank. 

"There!" Rick yelled, pointing Morgan in the direction of the tank even as the man had started to fire off rounds towards the walkers ambling for them. The man was a good shot and most fell, but with the amount of walkers there—an entire  _city's_ worth—and the number of ammo they had, there was no way they could even put a dent in them before they got swarmed. Morgan fired a couple more times before they took off, dodging around fallen cars and debris and walkers until they got to the tank.

Luckily the top hatch was open and Rick helped Morgan up before climbing up himself, yelling out as his ankle was grabbed. He spun and gave a kick to the walker's head, shooting it and watching it fall dead, before he scrambled up and ran after Morgan. The other man was already in the tank and so Rick clambered in, too, only after he dropped the bag of guns down inside and pulled the top down just as walkers reached for him. Both lay there panting, not saying anything, as they tried to regain their breath and figure out what their next move was. By the low sound of groans Rick could hear, he knew they were fairly well surrounded and dread pierced through him. He would use his gun just like before, refusing to be one of their victims. But he wanted to try and think of something first,  _anything_ that could get them out of this situation.

"Hey, you two in there." The voice had him thinking he was going mad, wishful thinking and all, but a quick look to Morgan, the shock on his face told him that he wasn't imagining it. The voice came from somewhere in the tank and a quick glance around had him finding a radio over in the corner by the driver's seat.

"Was that—"

"A voice?" Morgan breathed, nodding. "Yeah."

"Yeah, you two assholes in the tank. Cozy in there?"


	4. Welcome Home

"Yeah, you two assholes in the tank. Cozy in there?"

Rick stared at the radio for a moment, glanced at Morgan, before diving for the controller. The line was crackling with static and he didn't want to lose connection with whoever was there so he tried to move quickly. He didn't recognize the voice, but he didn't care who it was, as long as he could get them out. It was growing hotter by the moment stuck in that tank, sweat dripped down his forehead and spine, but considering the situation Rick didn't care. This could be their ticket out; perhaps this person could tell them how to drive this thing. Or maybe they could see them from outside and direct them which way to go. Ideally they could get back to the Jeep, but if that was lost, they would have to sacrifice it for survival, which frankly was a small price to pay if Rick was able to find his family. 

Fumbling around with the radio, he smacked his head against the roof and grunted as the voice sounded again. "Hey, you alive in there?" 

Rick grabbed the receiver and clicked it on quickly. "Yeah, yeah we're here." 

"Thank god. You had me wondering." 

"Where are you? Can you see us? Can you help us get out?" 

"Relax, man, we'll come to you. But you have to make a run for it. There's too many geeks close to the tank, so we'll pull up a block away. Go out the top, to the right there's not as many. Get rid of them and just run, we're in an old bread van." Rick nodded and glanced back at Morgan who was replacing his magazine for a new one. The other man nodded in agreement and Rick grabbed for the bag of guns, tossing it over his shoulder so it didn't fall off while he was running and took a deep breath. He really didn't want to go out there, not with those things. But he knew that it was the only way out. It's not as if he knew how to drive this thing and they had no food or water, and the heat was starting to become too much in the metal vehicle. They had to get out if not for themselves, then for the people they had to find. Rick's family was waiting, and he had to find them.

"We're coming," he finally said. "Hold tight." He heard the voice reply, but he was too busy putting rounds in his Colt before grabbing a couple other handguns, one in his belt and the other in his hand. 

"Look what I found while you were talking." Morgan held up a grenade and Rick grinned. There was a dead soldier in there with him and the deputy figured that's where he found it. Rick turned so Morgan could put it in the bag before they both glanced at each other. Rick held up three fingers, two, one... With a nod and a grunt, he lifted up and pushed the door open. The sounds of walker growls and groans assaulted his ears, but he drowned that out as he began firing at those in the way to the right. The man had been right, the right was a weak spot in the walkers' line and they slid down the side, taking out walkers either by kicking them into the fray or by putting a bullet in their brains. Clearly the noises were drawing more of them, but by the time they got there, Rick and Morgan were already running. 

Up ahead, a block away just like he was told, sat an old Wonder Bread truck. The back door was open and inside there was a young Asian man, a young African American man, a blonde woman, a Hispanic man, and an African American woman. They were waving their way and Rick pointed his Colt in their direction, him and Morgan dodging and fighting their way over. 

"C'mon, c'mon!" the Asian man was yelling and Rick thought he recognized his voice as that of the one on the radio, but with the noise of the guns and the walkers, he couldn't be quite sure. As he got closer, he pulled his bag off his shoulder and tossed it in, the Hispanic man catching it and setting it aside just as Rick and Morgan reached them. With quick, high jumps they both leapt into the back of the truck, wind getting knocked out of Rick's lungs as he landed on the hard floor. Hands had helped him up and he heard Morgan land beside him. 

"Glenn, drive!" the African American man yelled and the Asian man nodded, running for the front of the van. As the door shut, walkers hit the other side and Glenn got the van moving with a squeal of the tires, heading out the vacant streets in front of them. They passed the Jeep on the way and he almost asked them to stop, but they weren't far enough away yet so the action would've been suicide. They would just have to deal with what they had and hopefully find other stuff that was suitable. 

The van roared in the direction that he and Morgan had come in on and he could tell by the silence that settled over them that everyone knew how close a call that was and that no more walkers were following them. Rick closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the side of the van and tried not to feel the panic that threatened to crash over him. If they had been there, they weren't any longer and probably were part of that herd that surrounded them. It was far too painful to think about and as he tried to catch his breath, Rick leaned his head back against the side and let out a shaky breath, feeling the adrenaline draining away from him. It left him cold and feeling helpless and like a failure. He couldn't save them as much as he wanted to. 

"Morales." Rick's eyes flickered open and looked at the Hispanic man in question. "That's my name. This is Jacqui, Andrea, T-Dog, and Glenn." 

Rick smiled slightly and nodded to each of them, eyes flickering between their faces to memorize them. As a cop, it was easy for him to do. "I'm Rick, this is Morgan." 

They fell into silence again after that, listening to the rumbling of the van as the road passed beneath them. The wind had an eery sound to it against the hollow metal sides of the van and Rick couldn't help but close his eyes again. It felt like he left more than just the Jeep and his clothes behind. In that bag were all of the pictures he had grabbed...well, except the one he had managed to shove in his pocket. That became his most prized possession and he slowly grabbed it out, eyes flickering open to look over the picture.  _I'll find you,_ he vowed to himself.  _I promise, I'll find you both, no matter if you're dead or alive._

* * *

Rick had actually fallen asleep on the hour ride back to the camp that Glenn was headed for. Morales had told him about it quickly, how his wife and kids were there as well as Andrea's sister, Amy, and a few others. It made his heart ache for his own family, but he was happy than the others still had theirs. Family was very important and he would do anything to find his.

Morgan shook him awake once the van stopped and he hummed, looking up at the man. Everyone else was already climbing from the van and he heard happy screaming as families were reunited. He put his face in his hands as he sighed, scrubbing over his eyes with his palms. During his nap, he had begged everything just to be a nightmare, but he could tell that that prayer wasn't answered. The dead were walking, his family was gone...was that going to be his life from now on? Moving around in hopes he would see his husband and son again? Getting more and more crazy as his efforts were left with no end? 

"Might as well get to it," Morgan said with an understanding smile before he, too, climbed out of the van. Rick sighed again and swallowed back his own feelings of sorrow as he lifted himself out of the back and let his feet land on the ground. 

"Yo, tank boy, come say hello." Morales's words made him grin and he stepped out around the end of the van. Around him was a rather nice-sized campsite. There were about six or seven tents sitting around with an RV and a couple cars. There was a fire pit in the middle with a small crackling flame, some extra wood, and boxes of a few cans of food. The RV had a camp chair sitting on the top of it and the awning out over the front door. Underneath it stood an older man with a rifle and a tall, lanky brunet man next to him. Andrea had clearly found her sister, who looked to be about ten years younger than her, but the resemblance was striking. Morales stood with his family, Glenn and T-Dog stood to the side with an older woman and a young girl, and—

" _Dad_!" 

The voice broke through his thoughts and he looked up as familiar faces standing outside one of the tents, frozen as they stared back at him with shock. Shane with his arm around Lori's shoulders, her hands brought up to her mouth as she gaped at him. He could see tears shimmering in her eyes, but when the voice of his son reached his ears, he looked down to see the brunet boy running for him. Rick's lips parted, but he couldn't say anything, his voice taken as he watched Carl run for him. Rick took a few steps forward to meet the boy half way and let out a sob as they met, Carl's arms around his shoulders as he fell to his knees, his legs just couldn't hold him up anymore, hugging him close to his body. Carl cried into his shoulder as Rick's body nearly caved in with relief. Two days of not knowing what happened, two days of wishing to see them again and now there he was, clinging to his son like a lifeline.

He stood up with the boy in his arms, kissing his temple, eyes flickering around for his husband and feeling his heart drop into the pit of his stomach when he saw he wasn't there amongst the others. Was he in a tent somewhere? Was he in the RV? Was he dead?

Pulling back, he looked into Carl's tear-stained face, looking over him for any sign of what happened to Daryl before he had to ask. "Where's your papa?" he wondered, his voice cracking. 

"Hunting," he murmured.

"He's alive?"

Carl nodded and Rick let out another grateful sob as he let himself feel that relief once again, hugging him as he walked towards Shane and Lori. Lori pulled him into a hug as well, even with Carl still in his arms, and Shane shook his hand. He looked more shocked than any of them, something strange glinting in his eyes, but Rick couldn't deal with that right now. Carl was safe in his arms, Daryl was alive, and that's what mattered. His family was the only thing that mattered to him in his life. He glanced back at Morgan and the man nodded to him with a happy smile for him. Against all odds, he found them.

Sniffing, he set Carl down and looked between Lori and Shane. "He's really alive?" he asked as if he couldn't believe it. 

They both nodded and Lori's hands fell to Carl's shoulders in comfort as the boy wiped at his eyes and sniffed. "He left yesterday morning to go hunting." Rick frowned. That long to hunt? "He should be back tomorrow morning, though. We told him we'd take care of Carl until he got back." 

Rick nodded and glanced around, seeing everyone start to go about their business. Glenn and the older man were helping Morgan to find a useable tent to set up with the others. The other man that had been with him was now sitting on the top of the RV with a rifle in his lap. The families were starting to either help cook or start gathering some laundry while the kids began to play with some toys. It looked like a good set up here and Rick could tell it was full of good people. Not one person tried to give him a hard time for being the new person in the group. No interrogation, nothing. They were simply trying to do what they could to survive and the deputy could admire that about them. But he could tell the camp wasn't complete, because there was somebody missing. His arms screamed to be able to hold him, to feel that body press against his own and be able to kiss him. 

"What way did he go?" he wondered, looking up to Shane. Shane pointed in the direction that Daryl had gone in and Rick looked through the trees, but there was a large rock formation in the way. He wasn't a tracker like Daryl, as much as Daryl had tried to teach him, he was just useless. But he had instincts, and he had a connection with Daryl that nobody could ever come between. Twelve years of marriage and twenty years of being together did that to a couple. 

"Are you leaving?" Carl asked and Rick could hear a sad tone to his voice and Rick frowned, kneeling down to his level. 

"Just to bring Papa back, okay? I promise we'll both be fine. I want to make sure he's safe, too. Lori and Shane will take care of you and we'll be back before you know it." 

"He'll be back tomorrow. Can't you just wait?" Shane asked and Rick looked up at him, shaking his head. Shane was frowning, his eyes narrowed as he put his hands on his hips. The man looked very against this idea, his nostrils flaring with annoyance. Rick had seen this look before and he brought a hand up to rub the bridge of his nose as he sighed.

"I need to find him, Shane. I just...I need to, okay?" Shane scoffed and looked away. Rick frowned as he studied his long time friend.  _What's the matter with him?_ he wondered.

"What even  _happened_ to you?" Lori wondered. "Shane said you were dead." 

Rick glanced at Shane who refused to look him in the eye. "I suppose it's not too hard to understand why you thought that. I woke up two days ago in the hospital."

Lori gasped, looking horrified. "Alone?"

Rick nodded. "Everything was off. I was disoriented and confused, I didn't know what was going on. Walkers had already taken the hospital and I didn't know what they were or how to kill them. But Morgan," He gestured to the man who was still talking with Glenn and the older man, "and his boy saved me. We stayed near our house for a couple days, but—" He paused and glanced at Carl, frowning. "—but Duane was killed. So we left to get to Atlanta and it's completely overrun. We were hiding in a tank when Glenn and the others found us." It was the easiest way to explain what happened to him. There was no real way to explain the fear and disorientation and desperation that he felt trying to get his way to his family. "I need to find Daryl, Shane. I'll be fine and I'll bring him back." 

Shane didn't look convinced, but he didn't look like he was going to argue anymore either. He took off his police cap that he had on and scrubbed a hand through his hair before he nodded with a rough sigh. "Okay. Fine, yeah. I get it, Rick, I do. Just make sure you can go through with that promise." He glanced down at Carl. "We'll keep him safe, don't worry." 

Rick nodded and leaned down to hug Carl again, who also looked scared, but didn't say anything. The deputy was glad the boy understood Rick's need to do this. Rick gave him a kiss to the temple before standing up and heading over to Morgan. He was with the older man, Dale as he was introduced, Glenn, and T-Dog now. When Rick pulled the guns out of the van, everybody nearly cheered and even Shane looked impressed. Rick grabbed some rounds for his Colt and loaded it along with some extras in his pocket and a magazine for the handgun in the back of his belt. He grabbed one of the rifles and an extra magazine for it, shoving them in the pockets of his pants. 

His hands actually trembled as he placed his hat back over his head and made sure he also had his knife with him as it would be best if any of them snuck up on him, which he definitely was going to try to avoid that at all costs. He also grabbed some rope and slung it around his body just in case Daryl needed any for his kills, or if he happened to get anything. Again, Daryl was the hunter and not him, but Rick had gone with him before and mostly knew what to do from the numerous times over the years that Daryl tried to teach him. He knew how shoot and that's what mattered. 

Hugging Carl goodbye, he nodded to Shane, Lori, and Morgan before he headed in the direction that Shane pointed him in. There were no tracks on the ground and he knew his husband would've covered them up so nobody would follow him. It was good for safety, but it wasn't for Rick's cause of trying to find him. Frankly he didn't even know where to begin, but he had to do something. Thinking about waiting yet  _another_ night to be reunited with his love didn't settle well with him. Lori and Shane were more than capable of keeping Carl safe while he searched. Once his family was whole again, then he would stay in one place, by their side. Until then, he couldn't relax and this gave him something to do. 

He was careful not to be too loud as he crunched over leaves and sticks, but he didn't know how many ways he could walk over them. He had his rifle tight in his hands which he kept in front of him, eyes searching for any sign of his husband in the foliage. Seconds turned into minutes which turned into hours and he was getting tired, leaning against a tree and soaking up the shade, making him regret that he didn't grab a bottle of water before he left. It was a stupid move considering how hot it was out and for a moment he thought about looking for a stream, but he knew that it could be infected. Who knew what died in it and he wasn't willing to risk that no matter how thirsty he was. 

Sighing, he pushed himself away from the tree and started walking again. It was afternoon by then at least, probably close to dinner time. It would be getting dark in just two or three hours time and he wanted to find a tree to climb in by that time. If he didn't find Daryl by then, he would stay there until the next morning and then head back. Shane had said that's when he was expected back anyway. 

 _Maybe I should've stayed,_ he said as doubt clung to his mind and he stepped through the trees. Up ahead he saw a small clearing maybe about five foot in diameter and something laying on the ground. Animal? Walker? Human?  _Daryl?_ His heart skipped a beat and he raised his gun higher and ran through, making a lot of noise as he went, but it was worth it. He broke through the trees, feeling as the sun started to beat down on his head. More sweat ran down the back of his neck and he removed his hat to wipe it away before putting it back. He had to breathe a sigh of relief when he saw that the figure there was a deer. It was clearly dead with three arrows sticking out of it by its neck, side, and hind legs. It was newly fallen as he didn't see any flies around it and he couldn't smell it.

"Daryl," he whispered, putting his rifle to the ground as he kneeled down, looking at the arrows that poked out of the dead animal. Only his husband could down this deer so easily with an arrow. He had to smile a little even as his heart beat quicker in his chest because he knew if this deer was here, then Daryl wasn't far behind. 

"Freeze, asshole." The voice behind Rick made him do just as it instructed and he realized immediately that he knew that voice. It was snarly and demanding, but Rick remembered the sound of it choked up with feeling as they said their vows. He remembered it as he screamed out with ecstasy in the middle of the night. He remembered it whispering to him sweet nothings late into the night. It was the voice he fell in love with over twenty years ago, the one that made him fall into a relaxed sleep at night, the one that made him feel warm and safe. Rick knew that if Daryl knew it was him, he wouldn't be saying what he did, but Daryl thought he was dead and didn't even consider that his husband was the one standing there and not a stranger. Rick probably would've reacted the same way. "Don't move. That's my deer 'n you ain't gonna take it." Rick started to turn around to reveal himself, but he heard a growl and paused his movements. "Don't turn around. I said not ta move. Just walk away 'n you won't get an arrow in the ass." 

Despite himself, he smiled. "You've got me. That would be incredibly uncomfortable, Daryl." His voice was full of amusement and mirth as he kept his hands up in the air. Slowly he stood up and he heard the man behind him fall silent, not even a snap of twigs at his feet. Rick could feel his heart beat even quicker and that was simply because his husband was  _Right. There._ and all he wanted to do was to turn, run to him, and kiss him until he couldn't breathe anymore. Daryl wasn't speaking anymore, wasn't telling him to stop, so Rick risked turning around. 

 _There he is,_ he thought almost dreamily, watching as Daryl's crossbow fell to his side and then tumble to the ground. He looked amazed and confused and thrilled all at the same time, staring at Rick as if he couldn't believe it was really him. Like someone was playing a joke on him or he was having a dream or something. Rick smiled at him as he felt a smile stretch wider over his face, feeling truly happy for the first time since he woke up a couple days previously. Carl was safe, Daryl was alive, he wasn't alone anymore. At the end of the world, he sure as hell felt like his was just beginning. 

"You seem speechless," Rick said, which here he was thinking that that would've been him. He took off his hat and put that next to the rifle down on the ground, sun glinting off his  **King County Sherrif's Department** badge on the right side of his shirt. He was still thirsty and sticky with sweat, but he didn't even notice as he began to step towards his husband, who by then looked like he either wanted to turn and run away or jump on him. Rick hoped it was the latter. "I missed you, baby." He sighed. "I fought so hard to get here to you." 

"Wha—" It was the first thing Daryl uttered since he realized it was Rick and the deputy chuckled, his footsteps still slow as he closed in the distance between them.

"I woke up at Harrison Memorial a couple days ago. A man, Morgan, he saved me. Him and his boy. The walkers were all over the place, I didn't know what the hell was going on. It was like a nightmare, I was convinced I was still asleep. But I ripped some stitches," He pressed a hand to his side, "so the pain told me that it was real. After Morgan's son was killed, we went into Atlanta. It's all gone... Glenn and some of the others found us hiding in a tank. I've already been to the camp and I couldn't wait until tomorrow morning to wait for you to get back. Carl is with Lori and Shane still." Finally he was right in front of him and he saw the hunter's chest heaving up and down as he fought with his emotions, fighting the tears Rick could see glistening in the sunlight. 

"You were dead..." His voice was so soft and Rick shook his head, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek. Daryl closed his eyes and pressed his cheek into the touch. 

"Unconscious," he said. "I guess with everything going on, it makes sense why Shane thought so. But I woke up and all I wanted to do was find you both. I love you so much, you're the only thing that matters to me anymore." 

Daryl let out a shaky breath and opened his eyes, looking up at Rick, eyes sparkling beautiful and Rick knew he had never seen a more perfect and beautiful creature in his entire existence. Rick smiled and didn't waste anymore time, he just leaned in and captured those lips with his. He tasted exactly the same as he had for the past twenty years. Beautiful and spicy with a hint of cigarettes and the woods. The man was sweaty, too, and he looked as if he hadn't bathed in the past couple weeks, but Rick didn't care. He felt so good and Rick hummed, pressing closer against the older man.

Rick first met Daryl when he was just sixteen years old. As the son of the local sheriff, he knew of the Dixons because his father was always complaining about Daryl's older brother, Merle, who got in trouble with everything. Daryl never did, but Rick's father had warned him to stay away from the whole family because Daryl's father Will was known as the town drunk and druggie, and Merle was quickly following in his footsteps. But he never did have to arrest Daryl for anything. Rick was taking some of mother's Sunday dinner to his father at the station where he was working late when nineteen year old Daryl came to bail his brother out of jail and the rest, as they say, was history. Rick fell in love with him at first sight and every moment of their time together, he just fell in love with him all over again. 

Their embrace because tighter as Rick wrapped his arms around Daryl's waist, the other man's arms going around his shoulder. Rick deepened the kiss, pushing them more into the shade as he pressed Daryl up against a nearby tree. He heard the redneck whimper, his arms tightening around him as their lips moved together. Rick's tongue slid along his bottom lip and Daryl allowed him inside which made the kiss deeper than before. Rick kissed him like he was drowning and Daryl was fine spring water. He craved the man and he knew he would never get enough of him no matter how much he kissed him or how long he held him. 

A crack of a branch behind them had them pulling apart, Rick's lips red and swollen from the intensity in which they kissed. The deputy turned and watched as a walker wandered into their sights, obviously intent on the deer that had fallen from Daryl's arrows. It probably had smelled the blood as it was stumbling along. Rick sighed and reluctantly pulled away, grabbing for the knife that was sheathed on his side. 

"Want to shoot him in the ass?" he asked Daryl with a cheeky grin causing the hunter to roll his eyes and snort. Rick chuckled as he took a step closer, waiting until it kneeled down to start chomping on the deer, not paying any attention to Rick, before the knife was shoved into the base of its head. Rick wrinkled his nose as he pulled it out and the walker fell back at his feet. Rick tossed it away so it didn't land on the deer because that definitely would be of use back at camp. They could make some fresh venison stew or some jerky with it. Rick's stomach rumbled at the thought as he hadn't eat since the half a jar of peaches that morning—god, was that really just that morning?—and he was starving. But he didn't say anything as he stood back up and wiped his hands on his pants, shoving the knife back in his sheath. He put his hands on his hips and looked over at his husband. "We should try and get back tonight. Carl didn't want me to leave and I promised we would be back safe." 

Daryl nodded and stepped up next to him, crossbow back in his hands as he gazed at the deputy. "M'not surprised. He missed ya s'much. He cried for the first week straight 'n was just startin' ta accept ya dyin'." He looked down at his feet. "I never could. Wanted ta go back, but I couldn't leave Carl 'n I refused ta take him with me." 

Rick took a step closer and used a couple fingers to bring his face back up and smiled. "You did good, baby. I'm glad you stayed here for him. He needed it. And you just would've been dragging around my unconscious body." He chuckled softly, but Daryl's frown made his own smile fade and fall away. "Look, you don't have to feel guilty, you know that right?" Daryl frowned harder and looked like he was going to argue, but Rick shook his head. "I know you, Daryl. You feel guilty, I can see it." 

"Ya got shot, Rick," he murmured. "'N I wasn't even there. Just runnin' around with Merle. We had Carl 'n you had your own job ta do. I should've been there." 

"You lost your job and you were stressed about it. I don't blame you for going with your brother and neither should you." The other man didn't look convinced, but he nodded nonetheless and leaned in to kiss Rick again. Through their relationship, every time they kissed usually it was Rick that initiated the kisses. It's not that Rick thought he didn't want to kiss him or didn't enjoy kissing him, but rather because Daryl was shyer with romance than Rick was and always had trouble showing it. But whenever he did, Rick always cherished it so much more. "I love ya, Rick," he murmured and Rick smiled against those wonderfully fully, delicious lips. 

"I love you, too, Daryl. More than you'll ever know." Rick kissed him again until he decided that they should get moving back to camp before the sun started to set. It would be more dangerous to get back there afterwards and Rick was eager to get back so their family could be together again. With Rick's help and his extra rope, they tied up the deer after Daryl had pulled his arrows out of it. They waited for the body to settle a couple more moments just to make sure that all of the blood pooled or drained because the last thing they needed was to be dragging it behind and leave a trail of blood for the walkers to follow. 

On the way back to camp, Rick was telling him absolutely everything from the moment he got shot to waking up, meeting Morgan, Duane's death, Atlanta, and finally winding up there in camp. Daryl listened with silent intent interest, making noises if appropriate or asking questions. Slowly the world was darkening and Daryl pulled a flashlight out of his pocket to light the way in case of anything blocking their path or stray walkers. They were still hefting with the deer and Rick's side was aching, but he didn't say anything partly because Daryl would try and carry it by himself, and partly because he knew that he probably knew anyway. 

"We'll hafta at least skin 'n gut it once we get back," Daryl grunted as they lifted it over a fallen tree. "Won't keep 'til tomorrow 'n we ain't gonna let it rot." Rick winced as his side pulled and he touched it gently to make sure he didn't feel any blood, but luckily it wasn't even warm which warned of an infection. Daryl glanced over at him, eyes narrowing, and Rick smiled. "You're hurt."

Rick shook his head. "I'm fine, no big deal." 

"Uh huh, sure. Give me the deer." He stopped walking and grabbed the rope that Rick had over his shoulder, but the deputy frowned and shook his head. 

"I've got it, it was just from going over that log. Really, I'm fine, don't worry about it." 

"Rick—"

"Daryl, baby, I promise, I'm fine."

Daryl still looked doubtful and he frowned at his husband, blue hues taking in his face for signs of discomfort or untruthfulness, he wasn't sure, but finally the hunter sighed and relaxed a little. Clearly the deputy wouldn't give in and let him carry this deer back by himself. He opened his mouth to say something, but his words were cut off by a loud crack. Rick's head whipped around and pinpointed where it was coming from as screams hit his ears next.

"Oh fuck, that's camp," Rick breathed. He looked back at Daryl whose eyes widened in alarm and horror; their son was there, and there was something going on. More gunshots, more screams... Other survivors or walkers? They didn't wait to guess. Dropping the deer to the ground and forgetting it immediately, they started sprinting back to the clearing where camp was set up. Rick's heart pounded behind his chest, breath panting quickly out of his lungs as adrenaline kicked his body up into cop-mode. But father-mode wasn't far behind, needing to get back to his son before anything happened to him and it would be all his fault. 

_I just got him back. He better be okay. God, please, let him be okay..._


	5. Wildfire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Slight sexual content. Proceed with caution._ Nothing to change the rating for quite yet, but that probably will be an issue within the next couple chapters or so. Thanks for reading! Comments are love!

" _Carl_!" 

Rick yelled for his son as they ran back towards camp, knowing they were getting closer because the sounds of screams and gunshots were getting louder and louder. Rick realized that he hadn't even felt this afraid the entire two days he was waiting to leave to find his family. It felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest and drilled with bullets with each blast that he heard. Carl was up there, his little boy, and he was alone. Lori and Shane were good family friends, good protectors, but Rick and Daryl were his fathers. They should've been there, they should be the ones keeping him safe and protected, shielding him and dying for him if it came down to that. Well Rick promised himself and whoever was listening that if they made it in time and Carl was alive, then he would never let the boy out of his sight again. He couldn't take this again, the fear and the not knowing. It was making his head spin enough that he almost collapsed, but the sounds of more screams hitting his ears made him move even faster. 

He could hear Daryl panting beside him as they ran, Rick's rifle already up and ready for once they got back, along with Daryl's crossbow. The hunter's face was so full of fear that Rick could've stopped and started sobbing right there, but the idea of Carl doing the same thing made him pick up his pace. He was beginning to see firelight through the breaks in the trees along with cracks from the guns. The screaming was becoming desperate sobs and finally, Rick and Daryl broke through the foliage and into camp. 

" _Carl_!" Rick called again, his voice full of fright as he searched over the faces for his son.

" _Dad_!" The sound of his voice had him turning to the left, eyes wildly searching for the boy, before he saw him break from Lori's grip and come running in their direction. " _Papa_!"

Carl was sobbing and he hit Rick first, arms wrapping around his waist and Rick quickly picked him up, holding him to his side as he began to fire. Daryl quickly checked over their son to make sure he wasn't hurt and luckily there wasn't even a dot of dirt on him before he was loading up his crossbow with bolts and began firing as well. There were an upwards of ten walkers there and that didn't include the ones that were already dead on the ground. So many questions invaded his mind, but he would have to wait until things were clear to ask them. 

Slowly they got rid of the walkers, watching them fall down around them. Daryl had ditched the crossbow for the handgun that had been in the back of Rick's belt as it was faster and easier to reload. The last one to go was just about to lunge at Lori and Shane and Rick's bullet blew the back of it's skull out and it dropped like a sack of potatoes. Breathing heavily, Rick swung around, panting as he listened to the sobs from around the camp. He looked over the campsite for anything else that moved, but there was nothing except the trembles of terrified people. 

"I remember why I dug the holes," Dale's brunet friend was saying, his face ashen as he looked around camp.

Rick frowned, unsure what he meant by that, but Carl was his priority now. He dropped his rifle and knelt to the ground with Carl, checking him over just as Daryl had done. Daryl knelt down with them, cupping Carl's cheek and brushing away at tears that had fallen down his stained cheeks. 

"Are you okay, son?" Rick asked, his voice shaky. 

Carl nodded. "I'm glad you're both back," he whispered and threw his arms around Rick's neck. Rick hugged him and Daryl's arms went around them both and they huddled there, Rick squeezing his eyes shut as he listened to the heart broken sobs around them, trying to pretend that the world was falling around them and it was just them there and that everything would be okay again. 

* * *

Nobody except for the kids slept that night, curled up together in Daryl, Rick, and Carl's tent, over in Carl's blankets. By then it was just Carl and Sophia, the Morales children weren't so lucky. Sophia's father, Ed, also didn't make it and Carol, her mother, couldn't be consoled as she sat at the fire in Lori's arms and sobbed. Morales and his wife had also succumbed to bites and all four of them met the end of Daryl's pickaxe as insurance that they wouldn't come back. The only other person they lost was Amy, but nobody was able to get near her. Rick tried to help, but he was met with a gun in his face and he slowly backed up, hands up as he told Andrea that he wasn't meaning her any harm. Daryl wasn't too happy about that, but one  _"what if"_ word from Rick, _"what if that had been our son?"_  had him snapping his teeth together and he didn't say another word.

Rick had stripped himself out of his cop uniform and changed into a plain white t-shirt and some jeans that Shane leant to him so that Lori could work on some laundry. It was pretty quiet at camp that day, a macabre and mournful air around them as they worked on wrapping their friends to bury them up on the hill in the holes that Jim had dug and burning the walkers that had invaded them. Nobody wanted to look each other in the eye and the guilt was eating at Rick, and Shane wasn't helping. He kept shooting him glances, but Rick ignored it until Daryl snapped at him to,  _"fuck off, Walsh!"_ and Rick had to pry them apart to stop a fight. 

"Dad, we can't stay here." Carl's voice made Rick look over at him as he sat with Daryl around the fire pit. The guns, knives, and Daryl's crossbow sat out around them and they were working on cleaning them up. It was something to keep their minds off everything and to avoid Shane who was stalking around camp as if he owned it, practically throwing an  _"I told you so"_ at Rick every time he saw him. And every time that happened, Daryl snarled at him until he walked away mumbling to himself. Even Lori couldn't get him to just sit down and shut up. 

Rick frowned at the boy, setting down his gun and gesturing for Carl sit between him and Daryl, who had also paused his working to listen to their son. "What do you mean?"

"It's too dangerous. Eliza, Louis, their parents, Amy, Sophia's dad... They're dead, they're gone. Walkers will get us, too, if we stay. I wanna leave." 

Rick glanced at Daryl who was also frowning at their son, setting his arrows down on the ground. He sighed and leaned forward, putting a hand on Carl's shoulder. 

"Ya know your dad 'n I... We won't let anythin' happen ta ya, ya know that, right? You're our life, Carl. We would die for ya. We'll protect ya 'n we won't let walkers go anywhere near ya." His voice was quiet, realizing their conversation was something that should be private. But Daryl was right, though, their lives revolved around Carl in ways he wouldn't ever understand. Eleven years ago they got the world's greatest gift, and they loved him more than anything, they would never let anything happen to him. 

Carl nodded and looked down, picking up one of Daryl's arrows to spin between his fingers. "What if they come back, though?"

"Then we'll take care of it."

"But, Dad—"

"We'll talk it over with the others, okay? I promise. But you don't have to worry. They won't hurt you."

Carl frowned, but he nodded and stood up, heading off to play with Sophia who was sitting sadly off in front of the RV. He had tried so hard to make his friend feel better all day long and Rick was proud of his son for that. He watched them for a moment as they talked and Rick turned to look at Daryl. The hunter was frowning, Carl's words still clearly on his mind even as he scrubbed at the chamber of the handgun he had used last night. He often did that when he didn't want to talk or didn't know what to say, pretend that he wasn't paying attention or was too busy.

"I think he's right," Rick finally said, causing Daryl's eyes to dart up to him and he frowned deeper. 

"What?" 

Rick shrugged and sat his rifle on the ground, turning to him with his legs pulled up and his arms resting on them. "We weren't here, and he almost died, Daryl." Daryl winced and tossed the gun to the floor, looking away as he tried to avoid the conversation. "What if they sneak up on us again? What if there's even more of them next time? Wouldn't you rather be safe than sorry?" 

"The road could be even more dangerous."

"But there are plenty of places of we can hide on the way. From King County to Atlanta, there were so many vacant houses, stores, farms... What if we can find something like that, some place we can actually call home again. And some place we can keep our son safe." Rick knew he hit a nerve when he mentioned Carl, though Daryl was stubbornly trying to avoid it. But there was no use avoiding the truth that this camp was too close to Atlanta and too out in the open to be safe. They needed some place with big walls and heavy padlocks. Maybe it was just a pipe dream, but it had to be out there somewhere, there were so many places left unturned. 

"Fine. We goin' alone'r we gonna ask the others?"

Rick shrugged. "Might as well talk to them. Safety in numbers, right? Plus Lori and Shane have done a great job of watching Carl, least we could do is ask them." Daryl's eyes narrowed at the mention of them, knowing he wasn't happy with Shane right then, but as usual he didn't say anything. He grunted and went back to his work and Rick sighed, running a hand down his face. Why did he ever think that things would be easier once he found them?  _Welcome to the apocalypse,_ he thought wryly. 

Standing up, he paused only long enough to squeeze Daryl's shoulder comfortingly before he went to find Shane and Lori to speak with them. Turns out Shane was thinking the same thing and he already spoke with Dale, Glenn, and T-Dog who all wanted to leave as well. The ground was literally stained with the blood of both the living and the dead. He could smell the stench of burning bodies from the fires that were cooling down now that they were all gone. Their friends were buried, including Amy as Andrea finally let go of her body, and things were slowly getting back into the swing of things. Well, as much as they could anyway. 

"I'm heading back to King County." Rick looked over at Morgan's voice interrupted from behind him and he frowned, putting his hands on his hips. Sadness shot through him as he studied the man's expression, but he looked very set on his idea.

"What? Why?"

Morgan sighed. "That's where my family died and so that's where I want to be." Rick knew it made sense, he probably would've said the same thing had the situation been switched. But that didn't mean he liked it. Morgan was his friend and he saved him. Going back to King County meant he would be alone, which was far more dangerous than going out on the road or even staying there at camp. 

"They're gone, Morgan," Rick said gently. "They would want you to move on and try to be happy."

Morgan shrugged. "I have to do this, Rick. You needed to find your family, and I need to go back to mine." Rick realized that nothing he said would make Morgan stay with them. They were physically dead, but they would always be alive to Morgan and he wanted to be there with them. It was like visiting their graves and it would keep them close together. Rick couldn't fault him for that, so Rick nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets, staring at the ground. 

"Okay. Okay, I understand. Just...leave Atlanta alone, okay?"

Morgan smiled and chuckled lightly. "No problem there. You know where to find me if you need." He nodded. "I figured I could take the bread van, if that's okay with you guys." They all agreed and Rick helped him grab some supplies. He tried to decline it and told them to keep it for the kids, but it was packed up in some bags and put in the back of the truck. The supplies Rick and Morgan brought with them was still in Atlanta and Rick wished that he could go back to get it, but the fact that the city was so over run made him forgo the thought practically immediately. He stood back next to the RV as Morgan spoke with Glenn and Dale and thanked them for letting him stay with them before he shook Rick's hand and pulled him into a quick, one-armed hug. 

"You take care of them," he said quietly so nobody else could hear them. Morgan's eyes burned with something Rick knew was grief and a bit of madness. He supposed he would go a bit mad, too, if he watched his family die one by one in front of his eyes. "Don't let them out of your sight. Take it from me, you'll regret it for the rest of your life if you do." Rick nodded, his throat a bit thick as he shook his hand again. 

"I won't," he vowed softly and Morgan nodded, sniffing lightly and turning around to leave without a second look back. As the truck slowly back up out of the campsite, Rick felt a hand at the small of his back and he knew it was Daryl without even needing to turn his head. But he did anyway, always looking for an excuse to look at his husband, before smiling at him sadly. "He saved my life. I'll miss him." Daryl simply nodded and reached down to squeeze Rick's hand tightly.

"So we leavin'?" he murmured as the couple turned back to their spot by the fire to finish up their task. 

Rick nodded. "Everyone agrees we should go. Except Shane seems to think that we should head towards Fort Benning, and I think we should go for the CDC." 

Daryl frowned. "Fort Benning? That's like a hundred miles away. CDC is closer."

"Exactly, and if there's  _any_ type of government still left out there, you would figure they would protect the CDC at all costs. They're the most brilliant doctors in the world, and if anyone can find a cure for this shit storm, it's them."

"M'with ya, baby. Where you go, I go." 

Rick smiled and leaned in for a light kiss, knowing public displays of affection made Daryl uncomfortable, but to his surprise the hunter smiled back at him. Daryl smiles were rare, and so Rick always cached them all away so he could flip through the folder of them and remember each instance that went along with them. Smiles after a kiss were always his favorite, but he had to say his two favorites were that smile after they said,  _"I do,"_ and the smile after they were handed baby Carl for the first time. They were the two moments that Daryl had been at his most beautiful. 

"Fort Benning's safer." Shane's voice interrupted his thoughts and the couple turned to him, causing Rick to frown and Daryl to snarl.

He and Shane had never really got along. Shane always said that Daryl wasn't good enough for Rick, even though he met Shane after he already was dating Daryl. He had tried multiple times to get Rick to dump him both before and after they got married, but there was nothing the other man could say that would get Rick to leave his husband. And he had been completely against Lori being their surrogate, but despite being his wife, she wouldn't take his feelings into consideration at all and jumped at the chance. Carl knew Lori carried him, but that she wasn't his mother. Still, it left a bond there with them. Shane just never liked the fact that he would be going to Rick and Daryl, the latter of which he thought unworthy of having a child, convinced he would fuck it all up. And yet Carl was the most well-mattered, brightest, politest, happiest child that Rick had ever met and half of that was because of Daryl. They were partners in their marriage and in raising Carl. The boy looked up to them and neither of them would ever do anything to let him down. So that's why if he wanted to leave camp, then they would leave even if they were alone. Luckily it seemed that they wouldn't be, though the disagreement was still floating around. 

"How do you know?" Rick countered, pulling his hand from Daryl's to place them on his hips and glare at the other deputy. "Have you been there?"

"Well have you been to the CDC? You said it yourself, Rick, Atlanta's gone. We'll be walking into an ambush."

"Think about it, Shane. They might have a cure for this thing. Or a protection against it."

"You don't think the army would have that?"

"The army's gone! It was over run a long time ago. After I got out of that hospital, I saw an army outpost outside in the parking lot. Every single one of them— _hundreds_ of soldiers—were dead or turned right there. They failed and so now it's us to do the smart thing while we try to pick up the pieces. Morgan told me there were reports about this...whatever  _this_ is for awhile before it all went dark. They could've been working on it before then, trying to figure it out. And if anyone is still left alive, they're there." 

Shane sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair, his jaw ticking and Rick could see he was trying not to completely flip his lid.

A couple times while still on the force, he had gotten a little too angry whether it was with fellow police officers or suspects, and wound up getting suspended for a couple weeks or so more than once. One time he nearly beat a man to death who wound up being innocent and after that, Daryl tried to talk Rick into telling the sheriff that he wouldn't partner with Shane anymore, telling him it was too dangerous. Rick declined and it led to a pretty big argument with the two of them, but he always wondered if it would've been better if he had, no matter how close they were with Lori and how much of a friend Shane used to be. 

"You know what, man? Whatever. We'll go to the CDC. When we see I'm right, we'll go up to Fort Benning." With a scoff, he turned on his heel and stalked away, shaking his head. 

Rick was fuming and Daryl was even worse so Rick took his hand and tugged him towards their tent. He nodded to Lori who went to Carl, trying to distract him from what he just saw. He and Shane were always buddies, and Rick hated for Carl to see that, the side of Shane that was irrational with a bad temper, which he never had before. Daryl was mumbling about following him and  _"shove an arrow up his ass"_ so Rick took him inside and zipped the flap shut so they had a bit of privacy.

"Daryl," he said gently, grabbing the hunter's shoulders to keep him from pacing around as he clearly wanted to do, something he always did when he was angry.

Fury sparkled in his blue eyes and Rick sighed, doing the only sure-fire thing he could do to make that anger go away: he kissed him. Hands rose to his cheeks and cupped them gently, thumbs on his cheekbones as he pulled that mouth up to his. He could tell he shocked him as Daryl didn't move for a moment, but it was just a millisecond because soon he was kissing back, his movements desperate and rushed as he put his arms around Rick's waist and tugged him closer. Rick moaned softly as their bodies ground together and he could feel exactly what Daryl wanted. Having everyone right outside normally deterred that notion, making the older man too self-conscious and nervous, but it seemed that his anger was getting the better of him. Rick always told him to take his anger out on him, to be rough when he needed and let himself go. It seemed he still remembered that because he was pushing Rick back for their bed and the deputy was going to try and tell him to stop and just wait, but he let out a surprised noise as he was falling back onto the cot with their sleeping bag on it. 

It seemed Rick's body had a mind of his own as his hands left Daryl's cheeks and wrapped around his shoulders, his thighs parting as he let Daryl's body lay against his own, their hips grinding together and it was then that Rick felt the time separation between them. Not only had it been two weeks since he had been shot and the world ended, but Daryl had been gone for nearly three weeks before that with Merle. For a second he realized he didn't even know where Merle  _was_ , but right then  _really_ wouldn't be the best time to ask considering he felt Daryl's fingers grip at his t-shirt and yank it from his jeans so his hand could travel the length of Rick's bare torso. 

Rick moaned and his back arched, nimble calloused fingers quickly passing over smooth skin making blood rush to the surface and giving his body a soft rosy color. The deputy was at his very mercy and his body began to tremble with it. The couple always  _"took turns"_ in the bedroom, as Lori had once said when she and Rick had a chat about their sex lives—not that Daryl knew and he would never find out—so that neither felt left out in any certain way. If things had led this way the day before when Rick found him in the woods, he was sure that he would've been the one on in Daryl's position. Things were never boring or dull in the bedroom, no matter how things turned out for them.

A button undone, a zipper sliding down its teeth, a hand pushing in Rick's pants and pressing against him had him shuttering and moaning at the same time. Lips broke apart as Daryl's kisses went down his jaw and to his neck, though that wasn't the best idea because that meant Rick would be louder. Truthfully, Daryl was the loudest, if he knew they were absolutely alone and wouldn't be interrupted, he became quite the screamer. In this situation, he would be absolutely silent and Rick would be the one that needed to be shut up.

"Fuck, Daryl," he breathed, head tilting back to give the hunter more access to his neck. The hunter growled against warm skin, Rick's body hot and flushed, turning into jello under Daryl's ministrations. One little touch from his husband could do that, drive him wild with want and need no matter what the situation was. It had been too long and he simply  _needed_ him, his body arching against him as Daryl began to push past his boxers as well. 

"Too long," Daryl grumbled against his skin. "You were dead. Never felt like that before. Anger. Pain. Alone. You were gone. Been too long since I've tasted ya. Need ya." 

Those words had Rick trembling and his fingers reached down to start trying to pull the hunter's sleeveless green shirt over his head, tossing it aside as he let his fingers soothe at tense muscles. He wanted to do anything he could to make Daryl feel better, to make sure that that pain went away. Daryl wasn't one to share his feelings so what he willing gave to Rick without the deputy even asking was beautifully somber. Rick felt like the luckiest man in the world that Daryl trusted him with those feelings, that he willingly told Rick what was going on in his heart. Rick would never take that for granted. 

"I missed you so much," Rick whimpered out into the tent. "I'm never going anywhere ever again. I promise, baby." 

Daryl groaned and just as his hand was wiggling past the elastic of his boxers, but then there was a clearing of a throat and a loud, "Rick? Daryl?" from outside the tent.

Daryl growled, his hand snapping out of Rick's pants as he picked his head up and glared at the tent flap. If looks could kill, whoever it was would be dead in an instant. Rick lay there for a moment panting, knowing that the moment had been ruined as Daryl wouldn't initiate anything or let Rick get too far with the others outside. That's why Rick had been so surprised, but he supposed his husband was just caught up in the moment, for once letting his feelings take him away rather than thinking it through. Daryl did that too much, though, thought about things and usually talked himself out of something when he should just let himself feel it. That's why it had taken so long for Daryl to admit that he loved Rick twenty years ago, and why it was Rick that had to propose to Daryl. The man had been so shocked, just staring at Rick like,  _"why in the world would you wanna marry a man like me?"_ and it took an hour to finally get the yes from him. Things got easier after that, but sometimes Rick still felt like he was pulling teeth when he tried to drag Daryl's feelings out. 

So Rick wasn't exactly a happy camper either that they had been interrupted because the few times that Daryl initiated anything and went with his feelings instead of his thoughts were some of the most precious to Rick. Sighing, Rick sat up and Daryl reluctantly climbed off him. Rick tucked his shirt back in and zipped up his pants, finding Daryl's shirt and tossing it to him before he unzipped the tent flap and frowned at the person in the doorway. 

Carol stood there fidgeting, casting her eyes away as Rick gazed at her and he tried not to act so frustrated while trying to pretend he was doused in cold water to lessen the tent in his jeans. "I-I'm sorry to interrupt. Was wondering if you had any last-minute laundry you wanted me to do?" 

Rick sighed and rubbed at his eyes for a moment before smiling at the woman and nodding. His deputy uniform needed to be cleaned again along with his pants so he handed those over to her. "Thank you, Carol, it's very kind of you to do," he said warmly, putting a hand on her shoulder. "And I'm so sorry, by the way. About your husband, I mean. I didn't get a chance to meet him, but I spent a lot of time looking for mine so I know the helplessness. If you need anything, feel free to ask, okay?" 

The woman looked surprised at Rick's words and her eyes went from uncomfortable and unsure to warm and soft in a matter of moments. The woman smiled up at him and gave him a nod, holding Rick's clothes closer to her body. "Thank you, Rick," she murmured simply and nodded once more before turning and heading over to ask others about clothing.

Rick turned back to Daryl who was fully clothed and sitting on their cot gazing up at him. The flap was zipped up part way, but since the moment was clearly over, he didn't zip it all the way. It gave them a bit of privacy, but didn't assume things would be intimate like before. Though he knew if Carol knew that, she probably wouldn't have come knocking. Rick went over to kneel in front of Daryl's legs, his arms on his husband's knees causing the hunter to look at him. 

"I meant what I said," Daryl mumbled, glancing away as even after twenty years, he still got embarrassed with things. "When Shane told me you were dead... Never felt nothin' like that before. Never wanna feel it again. Ain't gonna survive it."

Rick cupped Daryl's chin and turned his face back to look at him. His blue hues were guarded, but Rick could see all the pain that he had been feeling over the past two weeks. The agony was there, the helplessness...Rick hated to see his beautiful, strong man so down, and he could tell that the guilt was nearly choking him. Rick sighed gently and leaned up, pressing his lips against Daryl's, nearly a chaste kiss compared to the ones they had just been giving each other as he just needed Daryl to know he was there. 

"Feel that? That's me kissing you. I'm here and I meant what I said, too, I'm never going anywhere again. Daryl, the only way I could ever think about leaving is if you wanted me gone. And even then I would fight like hell to make you change your mind. Twelve years ago I said forever, and that's exactly what you're going to get."

Daryl's jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed as he could see the man fighting back the emotion that welled up in his eyes making those blue hues even more crystalized, more beautiful and Rick couldn't help but kiss him again. There was no way to squash all of the fears the man had, but Rick sure as hell would try. Putting his hands on Daryl's hips, he pulled him a bit closer before he reluctantly pulled away. Still, he smiled at the hunter and stood up, pulling him up with him. 

"Ya sound s'sure," Daryl said. 

"Because I am. You won't lose me, baby."

Daryl sighed and nodded, earning another small kiss from Rick before the deputy tugged him out of the tent, getting back to the work they had to do before they left.


	6. The Dying Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to take a second to thank you all deeply for the amazing support for this story so far! For being my first Rickyl, I'm really happy that everybody likes it. :) I can't believe how much it's already grown so far and I'm looking forward to writing more! Thank you all again for reading, comments are love!

A couple hours after they decided to leave, they found out that in the attack the night before that Jim had been bit. Jacqui revealed it to all of them while she and Jim were finishing up some cleaning, though the man hadn't been showing any signs of a fever quite yet. Still, they all knew it was coming and so there was a quick debate on what to do with him. Rick knew what had to happen if they couldn't get him to the CDC in time, but Daryl didn't agree with the decision to wait as he tried to go after him with a pickaxe. Rick and Shane had to pull him away, even though that angered the hunter even more. 

"C'mon, baby, just leave him alone. We have to try and help him." Rick's voice was quiet, his arms tight around his husband's torso as Shane grabbed at the pickaxe Daryl had and yanked it away.

"Zero tolerance for walkers!" he yelled, but neither man would give in. Finally he simply sneered at Shane and gave Rick a disappointed glance before he yanked himself away and spun, stalking to their tent. Rick rubbed at the bridge of his nose as he leaned against the RV for a moment before helping Jim inside and hiding him in the back bedroom under Dale's permission. Rick knew what probably would have to happen, but in his mind he had to at least try and help him. Getting him to the CDC was the best option in hopes that somebody there would be able to help cure him. Killing him outright before he even turned didn't feel right to Rick and so he stood his ground even though that disappointed look that Daryl shot him made him feel even worse than if he had just sneered at him like he had Shane. It was the truth, disappointment was so much worse than anger.

"Is Jim gonna die?" Carl asked as he sat next to Rick who was leaning up against the side of the RV. Rick looked down at his son and put an arm around his shoulders, giving him a sad smile. 

"I don't know, son. We have to try and save him though, right?" 

Carl nodded. "The CDC can help," he said as if that were already a proven fact. Rick didn't say anything, but he ruffled Carl's hair. He loved the boy's optimism, it was something they needed in this world that was suddenly so full of death. Truthfully Daryl could probably stand to take a piece of that, but Rick wasn't going to push his husband when he knew that Daryl was in this mood. He knew his husband wasn't a bad man, and he wasn't trying to kill him because he wanted to, but rather because Daryl knew what was going to happen and that if Jim turned, his family would be in danger. Rick felt the same way, so that's why they were hiding him so if something happened, the others wouldn't be at risk as well. 

Cars and vehicles would packed up, and when it was time to take down the tent, that's when Daryl finally emerged. He didn't say anything just silently worked with Rick to get their tent rolled up and shoved in the back of the pickup next to the bags of Daryl and Carl's clothes, and a bike that Rick realized used to be Merle's. He frowned, but didn't say anything as he shoved a couple boxes of food in there as well and finally pushed the gate up so nothing would fall out when they were driving. Dale would be taking the lead in the RV with Jacqui helping Jim in the back and Andrea sitting up front with him. Shane and Lori had Carol's Tahoe with Carol and Sophia in the back, and the final vehicle was Glenn and T-Dog in an old Jeep. Carl sat easily between his fathers and unlike usual, he didn't say anything as they started to drive away from the campsite. Rick knew the boy could tell something was wrong with them. Rick didn't want to bring anything up about the fight because it was over and done with, and now they could only go forward.

"Where's Merle?" Rick finally asked, his voice soft yet curious as he turned to glance at Daryl who was driving. The redneck's jaw ticked and he frowned, glaring over at Rick. 

"You're just askin' now?" he snapped. 

The deputy frowned. "Lot has been happening, in case you didn't notice." 

Daryl sighed, rolling his eyes. "Stole a shit ton of food 'n weapons 'n took off. That's when Glenn 'n them were in Atlanta, tryin' ta find him 'n get it all back. Find some other supplies, too." 

"Why didn't you go?"

"Ain't about ta leave Carl. Plus he left without tellin' me. Figured if he ain't wantin' me there, why should I go after him."

Clearly it bothered Daryl that his own brother left without saying a word, just stole stuff from the group and left. Honestly Rick wasn't all that surprised to hear it, he figured that was Merle's agenda to begin with, but he still felt terrible that he had to put Daryl through hell. It made Rick wished he had been able to arrest him more back when cops were still a thing. Or he could kill him now. The thought was dark, they didn't kill the living, but he always fucked up Daryl and put him down, giving him shit for his relationship with Rick, calling him a fag and a pussy. Rick nearly clocked him one multiple times for shit like that, and it was why he was extremely against inviting Merle or Will to their wedding. Daryl did it anyway because they were kin, but they never showed, which Rick was more than happy for. It wound up being just a few people. Lori and Shane were best man and woman, Rick's parents were there, and a few other coworkers from the precinct and the mechanic shop. 

Rick knew that if he saw Merle again, he very well could kill him and the thought scared him. But he's done too much too many times and this just was the icing on the cake. The deputy frowned sadly and reached over to set a comforting hand on Daryl's arm. 

"You did the right thing," Rick whispered to him causing Daryl to look at him again, the glare slowly fading from his face. "He left you here alone. He didn't deserve you going after him." 

Daryl let out a breath and nodded sharply, looking away again. For a moment Rick thought he was going to shake his hand off, but he didn't and Rick was glad. Carl leaned over against Daryl's side and Rick could see all the tension drain away from Daryl as if it never even existed in the first place. He did remove Rick's hand, but only so he could put his arm around Carl's shoulders. Carl always got very sad when his parents fought and usually he would lock himself in his room until they made up. Since there was no way for him to do that, instead he hid in Daryl's side and pretended that it wasn't happening. Rick's hand fell to tousle his hair and look at him sadly for a few moments before his eyes flickered up to Daryl's.

"I'm sorry," Rick whispered, a small smile tugging at his lips. 

Daryl grunted, but Rick saw the edges of his mouth quirk and Rick knew that it was forgiven and forgotten. Not that Daryl held grudges a lot anyway, at least not with him. His own smile widened and he chuckled softly, glancing out to the scenery as they drove, realizing he had never really been over to this part of Georgia before. He was born and raised and lived right there in King County, and the only real time he got away was when he went to the police academy. Rick remembered having the long hours of discussion with Daryl about it and how against it the redneck was at first because of how dangerous it could be. But Rick really wanted to help people, he wanted to follow in his father's footsteps, and Daryl finally relented as long as Rick promised never to get shot. Rick kept that promise until just two weeks previously, and he realized that he would have to make it up to him somehow for breaking it.

After driving for nearly an hour, they heard a loud crack from up ahead of them and then a horn blared. Rick frowned and sat up as they slowly came to a stop. Carl, who had been sleeping against Daryl, sat up as well rubbing his eyes, and they saw as smoke began to crawl from the front of the RV and Rick sighed. Dale had told him that the belt needed to be replaced and something about the radiator, mechanics weren't Rick's thing, but he figured that Daryl might be able to help him out. He gestured to his husband and together with Carl's hand held in Daryl's, they went for the front of the RV to take a peak. 

Dale was waving away smoke with his hat and trying to peak in there at the same time. Daryl stepped up next to him and looked over his shoulder, but Rick knew that he couldn't really figure anything out until he got his hands in there. It was still too hot to do anything, though, even with the rag that Daryl took out of his back pocket, he yanked his fingers back as steam burst at him, hissing slightly and rubbing his hands on his shirt. Rick frowned and pulled Carl back away some so he didn't get burned with the steam as well. It looked bad in there from what Rick could tell, and the last thing they needed was to lose the RV, too. There was no way they could all fit in the cars they had, let alone with a wounded Jim in the back. 

"I think there was a gas station about a mile down the road," Glenn said. "We could go look for a belt."

"And a radiator hose," Dale said with a sigh. "This one is more duct tape than it is hose. And I'm out of duct tape." 

"T and I will go find one," Glenn said. 

"Eighteen inch belt, thirty two millimeter hose," Daryl grunted as he reached passed the smoking bits and took a peak inside a couple of the caps. "Also see if they got antifreeze 'n engine oil. None of that synthetic shit." Glenn nodded, looking like he was going to possibly forget something, but T-Dog looked more confident and together they went to the Jeep and headed back the way they came. Rick felt a tug on his sleeve and looked down to his son standing with him.

"Can we go play in the leaves?" Carl asked, pointing to the pile of leaves along the road. Sophia stood beside them, hugging her doll to her chest, she looked at them expectedly. 

"What did Carol say?" he wondered, not being comfortable with giving permission for Sophia. Carol was standing in the door to the RV and she nodded, smiling as she put her hands on Sophia's shoulders. 

"It's okay with me, just don't get yourselves hurt. Always in our sight, Sophia." 

"You, too, Carl. Go ahead."

They kids nodded and broke away from the group as they went to jump in the leaves that had piled up alongside the road. Rick scanned the area real quick just to make sure that there were no lurking walkers, satisfied that there was nothing going to put them in danger, before he turned his attention back to the RV. Daryl and Dale were still leaning over the engine discussing how easy it would be get everything replaced. Most of Dale's tools had been lost in Atlanta, but there was a flat head screwdriver that would work out for what they needed to do. Rick kept his eyes glancing between Daryl working and Carl playing over in the leaves. At least he wasn't bored, which could change very quickly with any young kid his age, let alone one in the apocalypse. 

Arms crossed over Rick's chest and he couldn't help but smile softly. His boys were doing exactly what they did best and Rick loved watching them, even though he wished he could be giving them so much more than what they had now. Maybe someday he could do that, when all the walkers were dead and they could live as they used to. His family deserved everything and so for now, he just wanted to make sure they were safe and alive, that they never had to feel the pain of being without each other again. 

"Dad, look!" Rick's thoughts were pulled away as he heard Carl's voice and he looked over at his son. The kids had pushed all the leaves into one giant pile and were jumping from the small incline into them. Rick chuckled and went to stand at the edge of the road, hands shoved in his pockets as he watched them roll out of the pile, push the leaves back in, and then go run up to jump in again. Rick chuckled, a smile tugging on his lips, and he shook his head in amusement. 

"That's great, son, just be careful, okay? Don't hurt yourself." 

"Fuck!" 

Rick whirled around and saw Daryl holding his hand, a snarl on his face and Rick sighed. He shook his head and walked over to his husband, grabbing his hand to inspect it. It wouldn't be the first or the last time that he hurt himself trying to fix something, but that meant that it wouldn't be the first or last time Rick had to make sure he was okay. Considering the couple days he had, he probably would be doing it a lot more often now. 

"I just told Carl not to hurt himself, do I have to extend it to you, too?" The hunter's eyes narrowed at him and Rick just gave him an amused grin. It was a small burn, but it was angry and red so Rick grabbed some cool water from inside the RV to press against it. 

Luckily it didn't take too long for Glenn and T-Dog to come back and they had what was needed to finish up with the engine. Dale and Daryl worked together to get it done, one holding while the other worked and vice versa; it made things go that much smoother. It still looked to Rick like it needed a lot more work, but to get them to the CDC, that would do it. They weren't all that far away and would most likely get there by nighttime and hopefully have a safe place to stay for the night. The idea actually made Rick smile because that meant safety for his family and that's all he could really ask for.

"All set," Dale said, his face sweaty with some random grease spots while Daryl's hands and shirt were covered in it, but things were fixed and ready to go. Rick called for the kids to head back to the road while Rick helped Daryl pour some water over his hands to clean up. 

"S'just grease, Rick," Daryl mumbled. "It'll come off eventually." 

"Well you can leave it there, but...let's just put it this way, those hands aren't touching me anywhere until they're grease free." He gave Daryl a cheeky grin and the hunter's eyes narrowed before he stuck his hands towards Rick, grumbling to himself making Rick laugh. He knew that would work because they both had trouble keeping their hands off each other, not that they really tried, and he knew that Daryl didn't want anything to get in the way of that, least of all his own hands. "We're all set here, let's get going."

Carl and Sophia had jumped a couple more times each before clambering out of the leaves and heading for their parents. Rick wrapped Carl up in a hug and herded him for their truck with Daryl following them, still wiping at his hands vigorously and frankly it made Rick smirk because he knew exactly why he was doing that—there were many times when they first started dating that he wouldn't wash them and would learn quickly that if he wanted some  _"alone time"_ with Rick, he had to. Rick helped Carl into the truck and had him buckle up, about to climb in when he heard a bloodcurdling scream coming from the RV. 

"Stay with Carl!" Rick said quickly and grabbed his knife out, running for the RV. The others were all running towards the RV as well, others grabbing weapons out as loud bangs came from the back bedroom. As he got closer, he saw Dale stepping out of the door, his face ashen. "What's going on?" Rick demanded. 

Dale slowly shook his head, taking his hat off his head and wringing it between his hands. "Jim turned." Rick stopped in his tracks, staring at Dale in horror.  _We were too late,_ he thought, feeling all of his hope evaporate as his stomach churned with bile. "He got Jacqui. She's dead. Andrea's making sure she doesn't come back." 

"Oh god," he said quietly, re-sheathing his knife and picking up a hand to run over his eyes as he leaned back against the side of the RV. Both of them dead before they even had the chance to try the CDC. Was that his fault? Should they have put Jim out of his misery like Daryl wanted to? Maybe Jacqui would still be alive if they had. Dale relayed the message to the others who all had basically the same reaction: shock, revulsion, fear, panic, and sadness.

"We should bury them." The words came from Lori to which nobody argued. Rick nodded numbly and turned around to head back to the truck. They were dead and it was all his fault. Guilt was so much easier to come by than happiness in this new world, it seemed. That's all he felt since he woke up. Guilt that he wasn't with his family to take care of them, guilt over Duane's death, guilt over leaving and the camp getting attacked, guilt over Jim and Jacqui's deaths... It had been just three days now, and already it seemed like a lifetime. So much has changed and he still felt a bit disoriented, unable to one hundred percent fully comprehend everything that was happening. It still felt like a nightmare and god did he wish it was, no matter how much he knew that this was the way he would be living from now on. 

Quietly he opened the passenger door and slid in next to his husband and son, slowly looking up at the two. Carl was pressed against Daryl's side, face shoved in his shirt while Daryl looked at Rick warily. He could tell they hadn't heard what Dale said and so Rick repeated it to them, hearing Carl start to cry against his papa's chest. Daryl's fingers ran through Carl's hair and Rick didn't know what else to say; what could you really say to a child who was watching everything and everyone die around him? If Rick could barely comprehend it, he didn't want to even consider how it was effecting Carl. 

Rick pressed a hand to Carl's shoulder and squeezed lightly before shaking his head. "We're burying them just up on this incline. Shane and Glenn are going to start digging. We should go help." Daryl nodded and Carl sniffed, picking up his head. 

"Can Sophia and I find rocks for headstones?" 

Rick smiled softly, sadly. "Of course you can, son. That sounds like a great idea. I think they would love that." Carl smiled, too, and together they all climbed out and headed over to help.

* * *

The rest of the ride to the CDC was quiet. Carl managed to fall asleep against Daryl again and Rick scooted over to press them all closer together, an arm over the back of the seat by Daryl's shoulders. The redneck looked deep in thought most of the way, chewing on his thumbnail like he did whenever he was nervous or hard at work thinking about something. Rick knew those were the times to let him be as his mind was a million miles away and he wouldn't be paying attention to anything that Rick was saying. But Rick didn't mind, he knew there were times where he would rather just be left alone as well with his thoughts. Most of the time they were if he was alone at home and Daryl was at work—because when Daryl was there, all he wanted was for them to be together—or those three weeks or so that Daryl was on his road trip with Merle and he was home with Carl alone. Truthfully, those three weeks were some of the hardest of his life, he realized just after the first night that he hated being alone, not feeling his husband's warm body pressing up against his in the night, that strong arm wrapped around him. He felt like they were pulling away from each other, or rather Daryl was pulling away from him, after he got fired. But he would never voice that aloud to Daryl because he knew that it would just make his husband feel even more guilty and/or just angry, and right then they just needed to be together. Rick knew now that that wasn't the truth, but at the time he had so much time to think that he let his mind wander to bad places.

"I think we're here," Rick said suddenly, obviously startling Daryl out of his own thoughts as the hunter blinked and sat up as if he were just waking up as well. Carl yawned as they all shifted, eyes blurry, until he saw they were all slowly pulling to a stop. It was far close to dark and far close to the city to be comfortable for him. But if they could get inside, it would all be worth it. Rick rubbed at his eyes before getting out and heading to the back where the bag of guns were and pulled out a couple rifles, a handgun he shoved in the back of his belt, and made sure that his Colt was fully loaded. He pulled on his deputy uniform shirt that Carol had washed right before they left and tucked his hat on his head as well. 

"Can I have one?" Carl was peaking over the edge of the truck and Rick looked down in surprise, shaking his head as he zipped up the bag and pushed it further into their gear. He glanced over at Daryl who also shook his head. 

"Too dangerous, kid," Daryl said as he got out his crossbow and made sure his quiver was full before grabbing another rifle and handgun like Rick. "We'll teach ya sometime, though, a'righ'? Meantime, ya stick behind your dad 'n me." 

Carl pouted, but he nodded and moved to take Rick's hand, standing between his fathers as they went to meet the rest of the group in front of the RV. Dale's face still was a bit ashen and Andrea refused to meet the rest of the group's eyes, but they stood and listened to Rick as he talked. 

"Take out what you can, but try knives at first if you can to keep down the noise level. We'll go try the doors. Stick together, no hero stuff. We'll stay in a formation, put the kids in the middle between us. Everyone else will carry, but those that don't know how to use them will stay in the middle as well and only fire if needed. Lori, Carol, Andrea." They all nodded and Rick grabbed the bag to hand out handguns to those that didn't have any. "Daryl and I up front, T-Dog and Glenn on one side, Dale on the other, Shane at the rear. Keep your eyes open and weapons up."

Everybody quickly got into formation with the kids, Lori, Carol, and Andrea in the center. Rick made a mental note to teach them all to shoot because it would be better for themselves and everyone if they could shoot. But that took time and practice which they just didn't have so Rick improvised the best that he could. Rick reached back just to make sure Carl was safely between him and T-Dog, who was on his right, before nodding at Daryl—a quick look of understanding, _"be safe"_ passing between them—and heading off towards the front doors of the large building. With the heat of the Georgia summer, there were a few bodies that were melted to the ground, some of which were snapping up at them. Those they could they took out with a knife, a couple Rick just snarled at and stomped at with the heel of his boot.

None of the guns went off until they heard Shane yell from the back, "Incoming!" 

Rick spun and saw walkers slowly ambling towards them, the growls reaching his ears and he let out a ripe curse before he quickly gestured everyone on. "C'mon, quickly!" 

"Rick, I don't think anyone's here," Glenn said doubtfully even as he started with Dale, T-Dog, and Shane at shooting at the walkers. They lined up at the back and kept those that couldn't shoot behind them. Rick ignored him as he went up to the doors and started pounding on them. They were metal security doors and they barely even budged when he started pounding other than to make loud rattles. His fists were no match for them, though he tried to pound on them harder and harder. 

"Everyone back to the cars,  _now_!" Shane yelled, gesturing for the others to start moving. "Nobody's here!" 

"Yes they are! They have to be!" Rick said desperately, pounding on the door again. "Please, you have to help us! We have women and children! No food, hardly any gas left! If we stay out here, we'll die!"

"Rick," Daryl said from his side, the man's voice trying to calm him down as he stopped shooting and wrapped an arm around Rick's waist, tugging at him as something caught the corner of Rick's eye. He looked up, seeing a security camera attached to the wall above their heads. He frowned at it, eyes narrowing, and he saw it twitched again. That meant someone was controlling it...someone was watching them. 

"Look! It just moved, the camera." He pointed at it. 

"Was just a trick of the light. C'mon, Rick, it's getting dark out and we're too close to the city. We need to  _leave_ ," Shane said. He, too, tried to tug Rick away, but the deputy ripped his arm out of his friend's grip and banged on the door again. 

" _No_! Someone's watching us, I know they are! They can see us! We have nowhere else to go." 

"Rick, that's enough," Shane snapped. Seeing Daryl's quick snarl, he didn't try and grab Rick again, but Daryl himself did try and drag Rick away, arms tight even as his voice was quiet. 

"C'mon, baby, nobody's there. We gotta go." 

"No! Please help us! You're killing us! You're killing us! You're killing us!" 

And it was if Rick suddenly knew it was a lost cause, watching as nothing happened. The door stayed shut, the camera stopped moving, but Rick kept screaming. He was desperate to get in there, desperate to have a safe place for his family. He couldn't watch anyone else die. He couldn't take another funeral, because he had a sick feeling the next one would be Daryl or Carl and he knew he wouldn't survive that. 

Just as Rick was about to give up, about to slump into Daryl's arms and apologize for being a fool, when a drowning light came out and hit them. Rick stopped, his voice fading away to nothing as he stared, stunned and transfixed, into the light shining out of the now-open door. For a moment he wondered if he was dreaming it, but the others all stopped and turned, too, astonishment lighting up their faces. 

_We're saved._


	7. Saved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Sexual content included. Proceed with caution._ Rating changed from M to E and tags updated accordingly.

The place was larger inside than really seemed possible, no matter how big it was from the outside. Rick stepped through first, his footsteps slow as he kept himself planted squarely in front of his family just in case anything happened, like something jumping out at them or just attacking them without warning. He kept the rifle tight against him, eyes squinting as they tried to adjust to the bright lights. It looked like they were in some sort of lobby with completely glass walls, a large staircase rising to the right of them, and a couple elevators in front of them. There were some couches and chairs sitting around and what looked like a front desk with a blank computer sitting on it. There were some potted plants around that were clearly fake as they still looked green and ripe. It was a rather beautiful building and he probably would've been impressed if he couldn't still hear the walkers growling behind him and he wasn't holding a rifle, looking for a cure for the apocalypse. 

 _Sounds almost like a bad horror movie,_ he thought wryly. 

"Shane, cover the back," Rick said, gesturing behind them and sending Shane away as they had all been sort of standing there staring for far too long than was comfortable. He gestured for the others to spread out, but kept Carl close behind him and tugged Daryl closer to his side, even though he had his crossbow up as well ready to strike, Rick just wasn't willing to take that chance. "Hello?" he called, his voice raising and hearing it echo through the empty room. 

At the sound of a gun cocking, Rick swung around and saw in the shadows of one of the elevators that somebody was standing there with a gun of his own. Rick leveled his rifle in that direction, eyes narrowing as he tried to see who it was lurking there. "Anyone infected?" The voice belonged to a male and Rick took a hesitant step forward, but Daryl's arm came out and grabbed Rick's arm from going any further and so the deputy stopped where he was. 

"No," Rick said with a frown. "One of our group was, turned and bit another. They didn't make it."

"Why're you here?"

"Information. A cure." He paused. "A chance." 

The man didn't speak for a few moments before saying, "Submit to a blood test. That's the price admission." Rick glanced at everyone quickly and nobody seemed to argue so he nodded. 

"We can do that." Slowly, as a sign of good faith, he began to lower his rifle. Daryl gave him a quick, annoyed glance, but he sighed and lowered his crossbow as well. "I'm Rick Grimes." The man that had been speaking stepped into the light. He was tall and blond and looked very uncomfortable as he took in the group at the door. But he looked trustworthy enough and so Rick gave him a polite smile and stepped forward half-way to shake the man's hand.

"Doctor Edwin Jenner," he said, glancing down at Rick's hand for a moment like he was worried it was a walker itself, before reaching up and shaking his hand as well.

"Thank you."

Jenner didn't say much, just nodded and gestured at the door. "Once that closes it's not going to open again. Better get your stuff in here." Rick glanced back at the others and he gestured them out the door. T-Dog, Glenn, Dale, and Shane all jogged out the door to get the supplies they needed. Rick heard random pops of guns as they made their way through the walkers. Daryl tugged Carl away from the doors and gestured for the others to follow them over towards the elevator while Rick covered the door. He did have to take out a couple and shove one away with his foot as it tried to get to him as he took out another, but the other four were quick to get bags and boxes inside. 

The doctor just silently took everything in and once everyone was back inside he called out, "Vi, seal the upper doors and turn out the lights." The lights clicked off as the security door fell back into place and locks clicked shut behind them, drowning out the groans of the walkers and for the first time since he woke up, Rick felt himself relax.

* * *

The last to have blood drawn was Andrea and once she was finished, Jenner began to show them around the building. Most of it was dark it looked like, but considering what they dealt with the past couple days, it felt like luxury to them. There was nothing on the walls as they walked through and it looked rather drab, but once they started opening some of the many doors along the corridor, they realized that it was actually homey. There were a couple lounges and some other random offices and, most importantly, there were bathrooms with working showers. A ripple of excitement went through the group at that and Rick realized they had been without hot showers a lot longer than he had considering he got one at the station while with Morgan and Duane in King County. But he had to admit, he wasn't expecting that and it was most definitely a nice touch. 

Once Jenner finished giving them the tour, he excused himself back to his own office and the group split up into the separate rooms to start settling in. Rick, Daryl, and Carl took one of the offices that had a couch in it. On the floor they made a bed with their cot and sleeping bag, but let Carl have the couch. Immediately Carl ran off to find Sophia who was with Carol in one of the lounges looking through the books and magazines. Carl was hoping for some comics and Rick had a flash back to the Jeep in Atlanta and had to force himself not to think about losing that. 

After he ran off, Rick turned to look at Daryl who was taking out all the weapons he had on himself—which was more than even Rick realized, he saw with amusement—and setting them down on the desk. Taking them apart, he fell into the chair and began to clean them, face pinched in concentration as he used some water and a rag to get into each part of the gun; if they didn't clean them, they could get clogged and backfire or just not fire at all and in both instances, it could be a catastrophe. 

As much as he wanted to just drag Daryl away from his activities, he knew that it was important. And he had to admit, he looked absolutely adorable sitting there doing that in such concentration, and all he wanted to do was kiss him, but he wound up leaving the hunter to his work as he grabbed some clothes from the bags that were brought in, hoping he could find soap of some kind somewhere. Leaning over, he pressed a kiss to Daryl's cheek and squeezed his shoulder, yet the man didn't move a muscle as if Rick wasn't even there. He rolled his eyes, but didn't stop smiling. It was just one of the quirky things he loved about Daryl.

"I'll be in the shower if you need me, baby," he said before pressing another kiss to his cheek and heading out the door. For a moment he couldn't remember where it was, but then he saw Dale walking out of a door up ahead with steam following him out so he figured that's where it had to be. Smiling, he darted that way quickly before anybody else could get in there, smirking at Shane as he tried to duck in ahead of him, but Rick was faster. The other deputy simply rolled his eyes and stalked back down the highway. Rick snickered and headed into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. 

He shucked his dirty clothes over into the corner, well the white shirt he was wearing under his uniform. It's not as if he had a lot of options to change into except for the one, single white shirt Daryl owned that he just stole from his husband. He stripped down completely and stepped into the shower itself, turning on the faucets to get the perfect temperatures before he started taking a look around to try and find some soap. He finally found a small bar of soap in one of the drawers and stuck that in the shower stall as well. For a moment his hand hovered over the bathroom door, but smirked and left it unlocked. If by chance Daryl remembered his words and was finished cleaning his weapons quick enough, then he could join him. The others were all still here, but with the sound of the water running and the spaciousness of the building—not to mention they weren't behind a thin tent wall anymore—then Daryl just might join him without much of a fight. 

The smirk never left his face as he turned back and stepped into the stall, closing up the door behind him. He kept his back to the door, standing there for a couple moments just to let the feeling of the warm water rushing over him. It felt even better than it had at the precinct, but he wasn't sure if it was the water itself or the fact that he no longer had the tension in his body that had come with not knowing what happened to his family. Probably a little bit of both, truth be told. 

Humming, he grabbed for the bar of soap and began to wash himself, starting with his hair because it was thick enough that it never seemed to be clean, so he washed it twice just to make sure that he got all the dirt and grime out of it. The sweat on his body was still sticky so he paused after his hair was clean to try and let it wash away some more before he used the soap again. That way, Daryl and Carl could use it as well. 

"Gotta say, this is the best view I've seen in a long time."

Rick actually jumped, startled as he had been so focused on his thoughts, that he hadn't heard the outer door open. Luckily he recognized the voice as he spun around; anybody else, it would've been mightily embarrassing. Well, he probably wouldn't have turned around if it was someone else, though he wasn't sure who exactly would've snuck in there just to  _"admire the view,"_ as his loving husband so delicately put it. 

Despite himself and the fact he could barely see the familiar figure through the foggy glass, he grinned. Reaching over to push the door open, he gazed at his husband as the hunter not-so-conspicuously ran his eyes slowly over Rick's wet body. Those eyes on him, especially with that hungry look in them, always did more to him than he let on to Daryl. Most of the time he could hide it in some way, but he was completely naked under a warm shower against his back and his body was completely at the other man's mercy. And truthfully, he fucking loved it that way. 

Daryl's eyes flickered back up to his own and Rick let out a shaky breath as he saw the way that Daryl's eyes had darkened considerably since he first opened that shower door. Rick was never extremely self-conscious, but he always found flaws about himself that he'd rather hide, especially comparing him to the beauty that now stood in that bathroom with him. But when Daryl looked at him like that, he felt fucking sexy and it was a wonderful feeling.

Leaning against the shower wall, he felt his own eyes grow hotter as his body responded to his husband's hungry look and the sight of that delicious man so close to him.

"Lock that door," he suggested, eyebrow raising in the hunter's direction. "And get those clothes off." 

As if pulled by a string, Daryl began to do just that. His hand reached behind himself to fumble with the doorknob and after he couldn't figure it out blindly, he turned quickly to get it into place. Rick had to chuckle as he stood there, fingers itching to touch Daryl. Already his mind was playing havoc with itself as he ran over Daryl's still-clothed body, imagining what was hidden under all that unnecessary clothing.

It made him remember one weekend after they got married, but before they got Carl that they spent every moment without a scrap of clothing on, making love over every surface of their home and even garage and backyard. The neighbors actually caught them over their car in the driveway late one night and Daryl had been so embarrassed, but Rick just played it off and said,  _"there's a dent in the car, we're just checking on it, we might need to get some new paint. Any suggestions?"_ The old lady just scoffed and walked away while Daryl tried to tug Rick inside, but Rick had none of that.

The memory of that, of keeping himself pushed inside tight heat while he spoke with that woman like it was the most casual thing in the world, made his now completely hard length throb and his hand twitched, unable to stop himself from reaching down and stroking himself. He shivered even with the warm cascades down his back and  _finally_ Daryl was beginning to strip himself down. Apparently it was then he noticed Rick's touches because he actually stopped half-way through taking off his pants, eyes full of desire as he took his husband in again. 

" _Hurry_ ," Rick growled, his voice husky as he licked his lips. That single word got Daryl moving again and soon his pants and boxers were tossed to the floor next to Rick's along with his shirt, boots, and socks. Daryl was as hard as Rick was and Rick groaned, matching Daryl's flickering eyes as he let his move over that beautiful body. "Fuck... Daryl, get in here.  _Now_. I need you." 

Daryl growled and wasted no time in following his husband's wishes. He stalked forward, eyes dark and set on the deputy. As he reached him, his hands shoved him back into the shower, barely fumbling the door shut behind them as Rick's back hit the opposite wall, making the younger man groan. It was swallowed up by Daryl's searing kiss as hot lips fell over his own, tasting him hungrily, tongue shoving in to re-map parts of Rick that Daryl seemed to have forgotten. But Rick didn't forget any part of Daryl as the fingers that had been wrapped around his length moved to wrap around Daryl, stroking him slowly and languidly under the hot water just as he knew Daryl liked.

He heard the hunter groan against his lips as his arms lifted to cage Rick in against the wall, pressing their bodies tighter together as his hips rocked gently into Rick's grip on his length. Both of them knew he wouldn't be finishing that way, with the heat rising between them and the steam created by the water, the desperation was growing. It would be quick and furious and hot, but that's what they both needed right then. After so long apart, quick is what they needed, they both knew that right then slow just wouldn't cut it.

After Daryl had left on his trip, having planned on being back after a month, Rick was working on something for them once he got back. Send Carl off to Lori and Shane's and then have dinner, movie, and sex on every available surface of their home. He knew that the next time they had the chance to be intimate, it would be quick because it had been so long and they needed to make up for lost time, needed to sate their hunger. It might be the end of the world, but it was no exception to the Dixon-Grimes level of desperation. Slow could come later once they took the edge off.

Rick moaned against him as he felt fingers travel down his back, working their way down wet skin to his ass and squeezing before going back up again to his shoulders. He frowned against his husband's mouth and Daryl smirked, but that quickly faded when Rick squeezed his fingers around the hard member in his hand, pulling him closer. 

"Fuck me," Rick growled out against him, lips leaving Daryl's to travel down his jaw, neck, and shoulders. He squeezed Daryl's length again and the hunter answered with his own growl before he pulled back, Rick's eyes burning into his, and then with a quick motion he spun Rick around to shove him against the shower wall. 

Rick's chest was pressed against the wall, cooler than the water so it made him hiss as it hardened his flat nipples and made a shiver sun through his body. While he missed the feeling of Daryl's hard length under his palm and his muscled chest pressed against his own, lips coming together, he felt his body grow more and more excited, more aroused, at the anticipation of what was to come. Daryl's lips fell to the back of Rick's neck, his fingers reaching around his waist to take Rick's member in his hand. Rick groaned against the wall, fingers digging into the tiles as his body fell to the mercy of his beautiful husband. 

"Daryl," he groaned and he heard Daryl's answering moan behind him. Deep down he knew that he made so many noises because Daryl was insecure enough to think that he was faking it or didn't really want it or was thinking about somebody else. So long ago he got used to making loud moans and groans, especially of Daryl's name, because it let the man know that the only thought on Rick's mind during their intimate moments were of Daryl. It always worked him up even more and it seemed then it wasn't any exception because he felt Daryl shutter against him, hand stroking Rick a bit quicker. "D-don't," Rick stuttered. "Gonna come if you do." 

Daryl smirked against his shoulder, but relented and instead moved his hands down to Rick's arms. He grabbed both of his wrists and pulled them above his head, keeping them held there with one of his hands while his other slid down the length of them and around to Rick's face. 

"Suck," he growled making Rick shiver and moan. Oh that beautifully deep voice growling at him always had him ready to come right then and there. "Don't worry, washed my hands."

He rolled his eyes as Daryl snickered in his ear, but then he leaned forward and took those fingers between his lips. That definitely wiped away Daryl's humor as he heard the hunter groan behind him. Rick could very well just suck a couple times and pop off, but he had to tease because that's how he was and Daryl knew very well that he had to. Tongue and lips worked together, head bobbing as his tongue lolled between the valley of his fingers, up around the top where he sucked lightly for a second, before back down. He could tell just how much it effected his husband if the incessant poking at the small of his back was any indication so he did the same motions a couple more times before Daryl growled and yanked his hand away. 

"Okay, enough," he said thickly, voice rough. 

He wasted no time then, reaching down to the valley of Rick's ass and finding his entrance. It had been so long and Rick just wanted him to  _"fuck me already!"_ but the hunter needed the time to make sure he wouldn't hurt him. That was one reason he loved him so much, even in the deep heat of lust, he wanted to protect and look out for Rick. That meant more to him that Daryl would ever know. That's why they were partners, both giving one hundred percent into the relationship. 

Rick cried out as fingers pressed inside him, pausing for just a moment before Rick's hips twitched and he started scissoring his fingers open.  _Five weeks is way too fucking long,_ he thought as he groaned out, leaning his forehead against the wall and pushing his hips back against those deft fingers. Daryl's other hand still held Rick's wrists where they were even as he tried to twist them away so he could just  _touch_ Daryl somehow, but they were tight and unyielding making Rick moan again. 

"We're never waiting that long again," Rick groaned and pushed his hips back more, just to get Daryl to go in deeper, but the hunter just pulled his hand back a little as he kept prepping his husband to take him. 

"Well ya were dead for two weeks, ain't my fault." Rick rolled his eyes and actually smirked a little as he scoffed, but the sound was cut off by another loud moan. 

"Daryl,  _please_. No more, I'm ready.  _I need you_." He felt the hunter tense against his back as if he weren't sure, but Rick pushed back against him again and moaned and if that weren't proof that he was ready, he didn't know what was. 

Rick felt Daryl rest his forehead against his back and the man nodded, causing Rick to shift in excitement. His arms were still held against the wall and he knew they would be staying there for most of this little love making— _who am I kidding, this is fucking_ —session. He still wanted to touch Daryl, but he wasn't about to become demanding when the promise of Daryl inside him was only moments away. 

"You're amazin'," Daryl groaned to Rick, the deputy ready to return the compliment when Daryl's free hand took Rick's hip and guided him back, pushing inside him as he did so. Rick cried out, fingers clenching, trying to grip onto something when all he had was the smooth, wet wall in front of him. He tried to grab onto just anything, but Daryl's fingers tightened around his wrists as if he could hear Rick's thoughts. "That's it, baby, take me."

Rick whimpered and felt for a moment the muscles clench in his body, but almost as soon as they did he felt them relax and soon Daryl being swallowed inch by inch by Rick's tight heat. It seemed like it took forever, but just a couple moments later, Daryl was buried inside Rick, hips pressed back against Rick's ass as they waited. Of course Daryl was waiting only long enough to make sure Rick was okay because Rick could feel that length twitching inside him, and so Rick rocked his hips back so Daryl would start moving. 

The first couple thrusts were a slow pull out and a quick push back in, but soon the rhythm picked up, hips snapping against ass, skin slapping together under the roar of the water, panting and eager breaths mingling and making the glass walls even more steamed up than they already were. It made Rick glad that the outer door was locked because if anybody walked in right then, there would be absolutely no denying what was going on in there and Daryl wouldn't be touching him again for weeks. 

"Fuck," he whimpered, pushing back and meeting Daryl's thrusts, at least until Daryl's hand gripped Rick's hip to keep him still. The deputy was at his full mercy and truthfully it was such a weight off his shoulders, freeing in a way, putting their pleasure and actions in the trust of someone else. 

"Fuckin' tight," Daryl groaned against his ear and it made Rick turn red, but could he honestly really be embarrassed after twenty years and with Daryl currently buried in his ass? Not likely. Another thrust had Daryl pressing right into Rick's spot that made him yelp, shutter, and moan all at the same time. Daryl chuckled huskily, angling his hips so he got that spot each time. "Found it." 

Rick only could answer with a moan, leaning his head back so it was laying on Daryl's shoulder. Lips traveled around the sides of his neck as the hand on his hip moved down, keeping him still, but reaching for that delicious length that was hot and heavy and neglected between Rick's parted thighs. Rick whimpered and his hips bucked once before Daryl stopped him by pushing his hips forward and using his arm to push Rick back. He stroked him a couple times while buried deep against his spot, Rick groaned helplessly, before the hunter finally started to move again. 

"Need'a come," Rick mumbled, his mind so foggy with pleasure and the feeling of his husband inside him, that he couldn't really think straight. Later on he knew that Daryl would smirk at him and gloat that he managed to make Rick, the man who was a poster boy for self-control, react this way when usually it was the other way around, but for now he was growling and fucking into Rick harder and harder. All that they could hear was the sound of Rick's moaned out breaths and wet skin slapping together. They were so blissed out they couldn't even hear the sound of the water anymore or the low murmur of voices outside as others passed the bathroom door. It was their own euphoria, the utopia they created with each other many years ago. Rick remembered it every time he felt that familiar stirring of white hot pleasure growing deep down in his belly, clinging to him as it slowly built and built until he knew that one word from Daryl would send him over the edge. 

"Come for me, baby," Daryl panted to him, voice rough and gravelly as he held himself back.

Rick could tell he was trying to wait and so he clenched around him, hearing Daryl moan loudly for the first time since they started, and muttered, "Together." 

Daryl didn't need to be told twice as a split second later, he heard Daryl growl loudly at the same time he cried out. That white hot heat burst and flooded his body in bone-deep pleasure. He hadn't come like that in a long time, erupting over Daryl's hand, hips pushing back and staying still for once as he felt Daryl do the same inside him. He writhed for a moment, always addicted to that feeling, before slowly he slumped, half on the wall and half against Daryl's body. The hunter had laid his forehead against Rick's back as he panted, both of the trying to regain control of themselves and their breathing. 

Once Rick's legs stopped shaking, he stood up a bit straighter, grunting slightly as he felt Daryl pull out of him. The hunter let go of Rick's wrists and so the deputy spun around, arms wrapping quickly around his shoulders and pulled him in tight kiss, slow and passionate, hungry and full of need. Daryl pressed him back against the wall, both of them trying to get back their strength and their breath before they got out of the shower. It was easier to hide what they just did that way. 

* * *

They had finished up kissing and helped wash each other before getting out, dressing, and heading back to their room. They had passed Lori on the way who smirked at them knowingly, but they didn't give her any indication of what they just did. Well, Rick didn't, but he was sure that Daryl's blush probably told her exactly what she needed to know. Carl was still with Sophia in the lounge looking through stuff so they were left alone in their room. They almost made it through the tension of being alone and not having sex, but they had fallen onto their cot as soon as they got there, only this time Rick was the one in charge and he made sure he had Daryl screaming into their pillow. 

The hunter had fallen asleep first in a fit of exhaustion, sighing softly into the pillow with his head on Rick's chest, arm over his stomach, leg thrown over both of his. He wasn't even snoring which told Rick exactly how deep into sleep he was, which he was glad for. The hunter never slept well when he was stressed or worried, so the fact that their actions could relax him so much told Rick that's exactly what was needed. Rick, too, was nodding off when the door opened and Carl snuck back in. Rick looked up and pressed a finger to his lips, pointing to Daryl, and Carl nodded, heading over to his bag to change before climbing under the covers. 

The boy was asleep in an instant leaving Rick awake alone again. He was fine with that because it meant that his family was sleeping and getting better, but it also meant he had a time to think.  _Three days._ It felt like a lifetime, but that was how long it had been since he woke up in the hospital, alone and starved and thirsty and in pain without any clue what was going on. He spent countless hours thinking about his husband and son, and here they were, warm and safe in his arms. He watched other families die off or lose members, and yet his was whole. As much as he felt horrible for for what they went through, he couldn't help but feel relieved and lucky that he was able to find these two. If he ever lost them, he didn't know what he would do.  _I would die,_ he thought immediately, remembering that he had said that before to Daryl and he knew that it was true. He would die if he lost either of them. 

Slowly his thoughts faded away and he pulled the blankets up over their bodies more, Daryl shifting beside him for just a second to get more comfortable or closer Rick wasn't sure, before settling back down, and the deputy could't help but smile as he let his body relax with his family and slip off into sleep.


End file.
